Bittersweet Nomalcy T I T A N S
by totalqt16
Summary: All Rachel Roth wants is to be normal. To rid herself of the pressures of this town - and the pressures of being the spawn of a demon. As she begins to build an at-first, unwanted relationship with Garfield Logans, this becomes all the more difficult. AU
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Inconspicuous**

**Note: I **_**may **_**make a few errors in canon as a write this, but merely because I have not yet read the Teen Titans original DC comic - I have only seen bits and pieces, and have watched the animated series so I apologize in advance.**

Her lip stung. Burning bright, and turning red against the cold. Stroking the pages of her book absently, eyeing her bitten cuticles, rolling her eyes – and once again tightly grasping at her desire for the ringing of that last bell.

At it's call she'd leave these hard, rusted bleachers. The cold. The snide, sophomoric comments, and hardened glares of cheerleaders, and most of her _charming_ peers.

The soles of her shoes would tap against the pavement, eyes cast downward. And she'd rush into her room, past the age/life beaten face of her mother, and her afternoon cup of tea which near seemed to empty. And sleep. Dark and dreamless, and her only escape.

_And _there's _the bell, right on cue. _Her eyes cast themselves upward again and she stood – gnawing her lip once again at the dull ache in her muscles, from a long period of sitting, and accidently brushing Kitten van Cleer – the self-proclaimed 'virgin' goddess of all things 'pep' – by the shoulder.

"Watch it, _freak!_" the blonde snarled. Rachel, used to this kind of greeting, merely sighed softly and took another step. Only to be yanked backward with such force that her shoulder stung.

_So much for your delicate cheerleader_. She thought bitterly, having barely finished the thought, before more venom flew from the mouth of her attacker.

"Aren't you even going to _apologize_?!"

"For _what_?!" Rachel spoke, voice remaining calm and platonic, through fear struck at her core.

"Um ... _Hell–oh!_" came the sarcastic reply, "You _just _made me drip a _perfectly _good mocha-cocoa latte all _over _my _custom_-made _Luna-Di-Seta _blouse – now say 'sorry', like a good little _loser_ – and run along before you get hurt!"

"I have _nothing _to say to you." Rachel piped, before placing a foot in front of her, only to be held back again.

"You _bitch_!" came the reply, anger shone bright in the blonde's blue eyes, as a strand of blonde hair fell into her face, perfectly alined, white teeth, set tight in her jaw, her hand poised to strike.

"Hey, Kit! _Problem_?!" came the call. A tall, muscled figured stepped into view, blue-eyes tinged with both concern and a feinted mirth, as he brushed his hair, a tinted-blonde shade, aside.

"_Gar_!" The blonde squealed – her once merciless voice, now dripping with the kind of honey-dipped sweetness that could _only _be manufactured.

"_Problem_?" the boy repeated, casting a sideways glance to where Rachel stood, and curving his mouth of slightly.

"Problem." Kitten laughed, as though she had never heard of such a thing before. "No, _silly_! No problem at_ all_, I was just giving _Ruth _here some good old-fashion _beauty _tips – lord knows, she _needs _'em. Am I right, Ruth?!"

Rachel's lips parted, when 'Gar' spoke instead.

"Funny." he chuckled. "I always thought her name was Rachel."

"_Rachel_!" Kitten piped, cheerfully, giving Rachel an almost affectionate nudge in the same arm she had almost broken. "Of course, of course! – So ... um ... Gar?" the girl muttered, in that same high-pitched, sickeningly _sweet _voice, casting her eyes downward and twisting her hand flirtatiously.

The whole scene was _nauseating! _Leaving poor Rachel to wonder why she hadn't _bolted _the minute _Price Charming's _voice had saved her. They were ones of the _Royalty _crowd – the jocks, the wealthy, and the "peep freaks" – as Rachel had deemed them. They were cruel and shallow, and plain _stupid – _neither one intrigued Rachel in the _slightest_!

_Especially _not _Garfield Logans. _

Still, this _was _kind of interesting, kind of like watching zoo animals in a pre-mating ritual, or a really gruesome car wreck.

"... I was wondering if you mind wanna go to the Winter Formal with me?!" The pep freak continued, "I think you're _great_." she smiled, gazing at him so adoringly that Rachel was tempted to be sick.

"Uh ... Kit?" Gar continued, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you had a thing for that _Richard _guy?"

"Ah, _Dick_" Kitten sneered, eyeing growing ... familiar at the name. "– it's an appropriate nickname if I must say so." she laughed, bitterly before continuing. "– but _you_,Gar" she eyed him, running her index finger down his chest ever-so-slowly. "... You're _sweet_ ..."

"Um." the boy coughed. "Thanks, but no thanks, Kit – I've got plans."

"– and what about you?" These words directed at Rachel, who merely muttered a brief reply and stalked off – not yet carrying the realization that she was being followed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Fly Away Home**

**Yes, Raven lives with her Mother, in this fan-fic - and for those of you (the crazed-Titan-fans) who will actually REVIEW this thing - before you flame me - I made the decision NOT to include Azar (or any description of her teachings), Because: **

**a.) I wanted to add and mother-daughter relationship to the work in order to "human-ize" it, And:**

**b.) A mentor-pupil relationship **_**will **_**be stressed more with the up-and-coming Dick/Bruce (Batman/Robin) side-plot.**

He had _tried _to talk to her – tried to engage her in some _stupid _conversation about "weekend plans" – as though she were part of the "in-crowd"

She _wasn't. _And he knew that.

_So _why _the sudden interest?_ she grumbled, inwardly during her brisk walk down the dusty city streets, and up to the steps of her run-down apartment. _Why _me _of all people, why not some other "lost puppy" – like that _Star _girl - that pathetic imp, with the big green eyes who's always dancing around, like she's afraid of "getting in the way" or something – why not _her?

_Then again _she continued, _maybe I _should've _engaged him in a few words – to please mother, poor thing _is _always pushing for that "normal teenage daughter" – exchange a few words with the jock, flash her a smile at 10 pm tea-time, and then, off to bed without a word – Simple. _

_But I can never be simple. _

The key is in the lock, and the door is swung open.

"Mother?" comes the call. "Mom?"

"I'm here, dear ..." comes the calming voice, weak with feint cheer from the near hallway. A tea kettle sounds. "'You have a good day?"

Before she can answer. "–I made your favorite – unless ... unless you're not hungry again."

Rachel smiles – the expression her mother's twin. "No, no Mom. I–I could eat. It smells good!"

Mommy smiles – and it's almost _real _this time. "–Good, wouldn't want all my "slave labor" to go to waste, wouldn't we?" She laughs, soft and broken – _like everything else in this life._

Her choice of words, bringing hard, knots to Rachel's gut, as she tries to bring a laugh to her own lips — an inevitable failure.

She stuffs the food down in silence. Ever-so-often glancing at her mother, and giving a smile of approval – a small 'thank you'

The plate's cleared. And there's a hand at her back – Mom's attempt at _nurturing _– daughter wishes she wouldn't try.

"Sweetheart?"

Their eyes meet, that small, pathological _almost-_display of affection that they've shared for so many years – and after so long it still burns her.

She _shouldn't _be loved.

Angela, so much more _beautiful. _Than she was, so much more _human. _Not an ounce of demonic nature in her bones, and yet she was cast off to this _hell _– with this _creature _as a daughter, never meant to exist.

Raven's throat stung. Causing a brief shake to the house's rafters _No, remember _control!

Angela – she with those ebony locks never much taken care of. Her fair skin, turned ugly from the tides of war, and wrath, and _pain_, and those, deep brown eyes, tinged violet – and so different from the one who beheld them.

Rachel's eyes – sky-blue, with a golden tint. The _demon's _guise – a curse.

"Mother." She'd summoned the words, thorough the slight burn in her throat. "Bed, now."

A nod was her reply.

The Raven. The bird of all things death and mortal end – takes quick strides to her room, desperate to fight back the blades of The Angel's sobs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: The Quiet One**

**Look people, I don't mean to sound like a total b*tch here, but the only reason I even **_**post **_**my work is so that **_**other people **_**– namely YOU can review it, and tell me what I need to improve on! I'm NOT going to sit here, and critique MYSELF – so, either **_**you **_**the reader, give me some helpful feedback – OR ANY FEEDBACK - or I wouldn't be bothered posting anything else! Good day, sirs! **

She was beautiful. That much he knew. Although, what plagued him the most what the fact that he'd hardly even _noticed _her 'till now. She was barely a _blip _on his radar – on _anyone's_.

Just that sarcasm shooting Goth-girl, in the rusted desk during English. Never speaking – unless spoken too.

Smart.

Had a pretty impressive knowledge of Shakespeare from what he knew.

_But so _what_? _A lot of girls at school had brains, Terra Markov, for instance, cute – blonde, and the girl had more knowledge of the Earth's inner workings in one strand of hair, than Rachel probably had in her whole body.

But there just was ... _something _– something about this _Roth_ girl that just, made him ... _tick_.

He supposed he should be careful – after all, he _did _have a pretty rotten habit of falling for the wrong kinds of girls.

But then, what _exactly _did that mean? Was the _wrong _type of girl the clingy type – the one who called too often, the one who passed notes, and made puppy-eyes, and tried to get_ ... close to you ... _

The one who tried to find out your secrets – the one who'd run as soon as they'd figured out that their _dreamy_,pale, clean-complexioned boyfriend – was really anything _but_. That he was a green-skinned outcast, forever foster-kid, with a guilt complex over the family he'd lost.

The emo drag wasn't him. He didn't _do _mascara. No, the _jock _guise would have to do for a few more years. The only thing _close _to makeup he'd ever come, would be that liquid vail he'd made while messing around with other "orphan's" chemistry set, a few summers ago.

The one that made him ... _normal._ No more green-tinted skin, no more "Spock-ears," no more of that matted-moss that seemed to think itself hair.

Every inch of him was completely _normal _now. And he'd never have to endure the stares, the points, the ridicule, or ... most important ... that constant - pain-in-the-ass reminder of the fact that he was alive.

While his parent's lay underground ... _rotting_.

_This damn 'Roth' chick again! _

She'd crept into his thoughts – those piercing eyes she's always hiding behind the shadow of that _stupid ... cloak-thing – _and that hair, the same she sweeps behind her ear while she reads all of those books that no one's ever heard of – not even the English teachers – and in the sun, it looked – almost ... _silver _and ... _violet _— and just so _weird _– and beautiful.

She _was _beautiful. _Her hair's violet – like mine's green ... in the sun._

Maybe they were the same.

Maybe _she _was nothing like him – maybe she was just _crazy._

Maybe he should heed that classic bit of advice and _not _trust the quiet one.

But then, when had Garfield Logans _ever _been one to take advise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Not-a-Date**

**The next installment. I know I had stated previously in my notes, that I wouldn't mention Azar's influence on Raven, their relationship, OR any of the lessons she instilled in Raven, in regards to controlling her powers - but, the more I thought about the more I felt that these particular elements from the comics were, **_**without a doubt**_**, necessary – seeing as the priestess DID raise Raven for the first ten years of her first life.**

**Enjoy! And REVIEW!**

She sat. The dark-wooded tree stood, riddled with moss, looming outside the window. It's rotting and twisted branches, cut sharply into the violet-shaded skyline – breaking it.

Goose-bumps raised on her skin, she knew _this _particular chill was merely an effect of the autumn air - there was no unusual presence here, the cold was usually _much _stronger.

She leaned a hand ever so slightly against the window pane, sighed slightly, and decided that now was as good a time as any to meditate – her homework was completed, dinner was eaten, and she'd spend an excessive amount of time in the bathroom; with Angela was distracted by a brewing pot of coffee, and a pile of crusted dishes – there was no logical reason to behave as though she were a functioning, average member of teen society – the lie was weighting heavy on her – the _facade_ – _she _knew what she was, her mother was all-too-aware – it was frustrating – and an expression of such an emotion – one of feeling _trapped_, even – _fearful _would spell deadly for the both of them – for the world.

She closed the door of her bedroom, catching quick spirts of Mom chattering on the phone beyond the staircase. A gentle breeze swept in, and she slowly filled her lungs – feeling herself rise off of the black, silk bed sheet, as she muttered the mantra she had recalled from her earliest childhood memories.

"To whom am I speaking?" the feminine voice, barely recognizable in this state of serenity – this complete emotional control. "– yes – yes, she's here ..."

Footsteps on the stairs.

A warm voice, a familiar stirring – a chill – a presence.

"Raven?"

She peered up, slowly feeling the mattress beneath her again, as she began to float downward.

"Phone for you."

She raised an eyebrow in question, to which Angela replied with a shrug – though her daughter seemed to notice the playful smirk, which flashed across her face – the one she was quick to make vanish.

"_Rachel?" _a voice came through the receiver.

"Yes." the tone a mix of both surprise, and annoyance – though her usual bored, monotone masked it quickly.

"_It's Gar. Garfield Logans."_

"I guessed." she remarked.

"_Listen, I was — I was kinda hopin' if you weren't doing anything, if you maybe wanna hang out?"_

"Why?" came the anwser.

"_Oh – well ... I–I dunno, I just thought it would be fun I guess. It's–it's totally fine if you don't want to."_

"I'll go." she replied, noting the rarely worn smile on her mother's lips as she spoke – Raven wasn't exactly sure why this guy was so insistent on getting to know I girl whose forehead was clearly stamped with _Uninterested – in Anything; _but if spending time with an air-headed jock made Angela smile that way, it was at least, somewhat, worth _trying_.

"_Oh ... Great!" Garfield's voice brightened, "– if you're hungry we can grab a quick bite, I know this _great_ place ..."_

"I've already eaten." she stated, adding some sort of lightness to her voice as well. "'They have any tea?"

"_Yeah, Rach – they do ..." A small chuckle followed._

"So, you live with your Mom, huh?" he asked, brightly – as she gazed without interest at the fast-fading neon sign, outside the window, hidden partly by tattered blinds. According to Garfield, _though it may not be gourmet – this place had good pie._

"Yes." she nodded, "well, I've lived with her since I was ten. – She, she couldn't take care of me. I lived with a tutor before then."

"A tutor?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, well – that was her _profession _at least – I guess she was a distant relative – kind of a second-mother, to me."

"Oh!" he grinned, "— so, you still see her a lot?"

"No. She ... she sort of ... passed."

His face softened, one sympathetic. "Oh, Rach! – I'm _so _sorry ... I didn't mean – ..." She raised a hand, silencing him instantly.

"Don't be – I'm sure she's happier that she doesn't have me around where she is ... I was kind of a pain as a kid." It was a joke, but Gar's face remained unchanged.

He exhaled sharply. "... Well, I kinda know how that is. My folks died when I was really young, and I've kinda been a foster kid most'a my life. It's okay, though – we get younger kids all the time, it feels good being a big brother."

"I'll bet it does." A slight smile.

"Hey ..." he began, putting on a ham-y smile "Why did the Aardvark cross the road?"

"Uhh ..." She rolled her eyes, clearing not anticipating the punch line. "To beat up the idiot telling jokes about him."

His eyes narrowed, feinting a hurt expression, before bursting into a violent fit of laughter.

And against every instinct – she followed suit – her laughter coming out in small giggles – a _polite _laugh, to some – but for Raven this was an exceedingly rare event, and a forbidden one.

Suddenly, a blurred, white haze blanketed, the barely-alive potted plant at the center of the table, and then instantly began bursting with life – sprouting flower after flower – bright red tulips.

Garfield's gaze went wide, mouth gaping open at the impossibility, it seemed to him, that the expression lasted for no more than a second, but went a shifted his confused gaze to the spot where she'd been, he'd found only empty air.

His suspicions were undoubtably confirmed, something was _definitely _strange about Rachel Roth.

'**Tis the end – of Chapter Four. **

**I know, a few of you crazed Titan fans, may want to know the explanation for Raven's ability to make the tulips grow, seeing-as-she's-the-daughter-of-an-infamous-demon-and-therefore-has-only-the-power-to-bring-about-doom-and-suffering-when-in-emotional-distress, BUT — in the cartoon, it was really never specified, what would occur when Raven was HAPPY - I mean, we've seen the destruction she can wrought when she's pissed off, or worried, but BB's only really made her laugh, inside her mind – we have NO idea what joy can do on the Earth-plain, at least if we've only seen the show – I haven't found anything in my research as of yet, but the comics MAY, in fact have an explanation, so if you're a comic fan – please fill me in, so I don't look like a dope ... ^^; Too Late.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yes, the title has been changed. [on ] Not to confuse you all, but, I thought this necessary as this fanfic will not only center around the Rae/BB relationship; but it will also include touches of Vic's and/or Cyborg's history – the Robin/Starfire romance – the twisted Star/Blackfire relationship – and a bit of father-son-**_**like **_**relationship between Bruce/Dick (or Batman/Robin) as well. **

**Basically set in a highschool dynamic, as you've noticed – and basically MY version of how they all came together ... as ... well, the Titans.**

**A few traces of the comic will continue to be apart of this, as well as some elements (such as characterization) from the series. **

**That being said, I hope you all enjoy this Robin-centric installment – and, are kind enough to remember my love of reviews.**

**Chapter 5: Almost ... Alien **

He'd seen her around school, sure. Noticed her flitting around the building nervously, almost like a dazed moth – but ... that was to be expected – she was _new_.

He'd never taken upon himself to become her _welcoming-committee _– but then, when had he _ever_ been very social? He hadn't even taken the time to ascertain whether or not she even spoke English, and what would it matter?

_Soon enough ... _he theorized _she'll become one of the hundreds of girls in this place, who flock to me, fluttering around, and giggling like _morons_ every time I walk by ... all of them eager to just get one glimpse of the _fabulous _Dick Grayson._

Contrary to what _Bruce _thought of all the attention, it _certainly _wasn't desired – at least he could take solace in the fact that he no longer _rang _Kitten van Cleer's proverbial _bell _— the girl was _insane_, and after a recent _incident _involving an all-too-personal _possession _of his, he'd just about had it!

But the actions of this _Star _girl were just _bizarre _to say the least, and the sad part – he hadn't even seen it coming!

She'd walked up to him, looked him straight in the eye, and after making several odd movements with her neck – looking _incredibly _similar to a confused bird, she'd leaned on her tip-toes and ... kissed him.

Just like that. _No _muttered apology, _no _explanation, just – a kiss.

And not one particularly memorable either – just short, curt – after all was said and done, he hadn't known whether to take _offence _to the act – as though this sign of affection ... or merely pure attraction, were equivocal to a slap in the face in her culture, or something.

Either way, what perplexed him the most were not the jealous glares of female onlookers, or the ones of males – envious and awestruck. These were to be expected, as she _was _something of a looker – _Sort of an exotic beauty_.

No, what bothered him primarily was the fact that as soon as she'd pulled away – yanked back by the arm of her humiliated sister – he'd wanted to kiss her again ... and again ... and again — it was _scary_.

Of course he'd found girls attractive, but their personalities usually overpowered a small physical attraction, as instantly as it would appear — Dick Grayson wasn't _looking _for romance, or _any _sort of relationship for that matter — he was truly _dumbfounded_.

And the whooping and catcalls of his legal guardian as he retold these events that evening were doing little to help matters — and coincidentally _Alfred _had chose n tonight_ not_ to intervene!

He'd have to thank the butler later.

"... S–so, Rich?" Bruce began, just as soon as he'd regain composure — wiping his cheeks of their tears. "... given any thought to maybe, joining student council — you'd be a natural leader."

He continued. "... and all the girls are _already _wild for ya."

"Natural leader." Dick repeated, with a dry laugh. "..._ Riiiiight_ ..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Star/Blackfire centric chapter! Enjoy!**

**Chapter 6: Earthen Ways**

"_I wish you wouldn't do that!_" came the call beyond the shadowed doorway, in a language that would surely sound as though it were merely a series of senseless vowels and randomized clicks of the tongue, to any English-speaking, "earthen" onlooker – but, to the younger sister, the scold was understood.

She hindered the act of near-flight, and muted the small squeak that fell from her throat, as her heels hit the floor below her.

"_Honestly,_" the elder continued, "_I really can't understand why you'd chosen _here _of all places, parties on this water-covered _dump _are always so _boring."

"_There is — as they say — "more to life" than the parties_" voiced the younger of the two. "_The edibles on this planet, may perhaps taste more delightful than Galfore's home-made glorb, and it is ... peaceful here, Kom._" she spoke. "_— the Earthen 'history class' had informed_ _me on this day that there have only a few short wars, over the past several centuries ... at least _here _in this ... country._" The younger Tamarainian paused, searching for the right word.

"_Foolishness, Kori ..._" scoffed the eldest, "_ — speaking so fondly of ... _peace." she snarled, as though the word were the foulest of toxins. "_— we are a culture of _warriors_, sister – and we must _remember _that — for if they return ..._"

"_They will _not_!_" the small one cried, her blood-red locks tapping her face violently as the fought back the tears of dread, which threatened to spill forth.

"_Nothing is perfectly _certain, _sister dear ..._" the words coming out in a hiss, as the violet-eyed eldest stepped forward, brushing her ebony locks, cooly beyond the blade of her shoulder. "— _nothing_..."


	7. Chapter 7

**7****th**** addition** **- detailing the thoughts of Cyborg, a.k.a Victor Stone.**

**Thoughts are expressed in **_**Italics**_**, if you haven't figured it out already - though, I'm sure you have. **;**)**

**Enjoy!**

**And ****review****, people. _**

**Chapter 7: My Name Was Known**

The sun was barely visible anymore, and the shadows were closing in on what was once his.

The only possession he'd owned, that he'd ever really _wanted_.

And, the only one he'd ever _lost_.

He exhaled, breathing in the familiar scents of freshly mowed grass, and race worn tar, only to have the breath fall from his lips in a pained sigh. Furrowing his brow, and growling in frustration, he rapped his knuckles against the wire fence before him — he broke skin, and winced.

His head then reeled with a flood of memories, like daggers carving out the newly formed cracks, in his once smooth skin.

_A flock of frightened sparrows take fight into a cloudless sky._

"_Yeeeeaaaaah!" he cries, arms – although worn from a long afternoon of training — are raised in triumph, and his fists are pumped into the empty air. _

"_Boooyahhh!" _

_His feet tap against the driveway of his home, and the lone basketball on the front porch is tossed behind his shoulder. It sails into the into the hoop effortlessly, and rolls it's way back to him._

_The screen door opens._

"Pop_!" he cries, meeting the one beyond the doorway with a look of pure pride. "Pop, I don't believe it ... I made the team, Pop!"_

"_The _basketball _team?" questions the older man, flatly — a look of pure disdain on his face, as the ball once again, instantly, makes it's way through the hoop. _

_He spurts, grinning, and clearly oblivious to his father's disapproval. "Nah, Pop! – the _football _team — and I'm gonna run track, too — the fastest one out there!" His grin widens. "Your boy's gonna be an _all-star_ — Coach says ..."_

"_An _all-star_?" 'Pop' repeats through clenched teeth._

"_Yeah ... Pop(?)" Vic speaks, his father's feelings on the subject, finally hitting home._

"_Victor, the only _all-star_, I want ya to be is one destined for Harvard!" Silas cries, "... and you ain't gonna be that with a _damn _busted ankle, cracked ribs, and a concussion!" _

"_Pop – your startin' to sound like ..." A pained expression brushes along Vic's face._

"_Like who, _son_?" His foot taps the porch impatiently, his brows furrowed. "Who in the _hell _am I 'startin' to sound like'?" _

"_Like ... Mom." The words leaving his mouth in barely more than a whisper._

"_Oh, _of course_, Vic ... bring your _mother _up again!"_

"_I _won't _get _hurt_, Pop!"_

"_We only wanted what's best for you, Vic – that's all _I _want, you've got _gifts _son, an off-the-charts intelligence quota, you're skilled in _medicine, _and the sciences, you'll be _great_, Vic – a somebody — but _not _rollin' around on the field covered in grass-stains!"_

"_But, Pop!"_

"_My _son _will be a _scientist_!"_

"_Then find yourself _another _son — consider me _gone, _Pop!"_

"_Vic!" _

And — and then ...

"_Vic! _Vic!"

_Pop?_

"_Victor, _damn _it – for the love of _God, _son, _wake up!_"_

_The lights ... and ... and ... the _pain.

_And I can see every from my right eye just fine, but my left ..._

_There's no feeling._

_Everything red ... and _artificial.

_And I'm metal now — Pop's perfect _golden _boy._

"_What — what have you done, Pop?"_

"_Victor." A sigh of relief. "Vic I ..."_

"_What did you _do _to me, Pop?"_

"_Son."_

"_Answer me, Pop! ... you crazy bastard!"_

"Vic._" Shock in his voice now. Hurt._

_Vic._

_Vic._

_Vic._

_I hate you, Dad – I _hate _you._

And the track isn't _his _anymore.

He doesn't belong.

_I doubt anyone even remembers the name — _

"Vic? Victor Stone?"

_Company. Niiiccceee._

"Dude, no way — you're like ... a _legend_."

_I was_.

_I was — a long time ago. _

**Not much to add here. Um ... feedback? ^^;**

**Next up: Star's in trouble — but Robin to the rescue, AND BB's new best-buddy gives 'em some tips on how to whoo a certain "Roth-chick"**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8, people ... I mean if you all **_**care **_**that is, I know - b*tch-fest again, but I didn't get much of a response** **from the last one, and I gotta say: It's a little unnerving. **

**I **_**know **_**– "No news is **_**good **_**news, and blah, blah, blah" but C'MON people - can you AT LEAST tell me that I SUCK— if **_**anything**_**? Come **_**on, **_**throw me a bone, will you?**

***sighs* - Okay, okay ... I'm done. I'll let you read [ or not to read ] now!**

**Chapter 8 : Lives Collide **

"Um ... _dude_, you _are _Vic Stone, aren't you?"

"Depends." Answers the figure – blowing a puff of smoke into the air absently.

"On what?" Gar asks, having immediately regretted having opened his mouth. _Obviously the dude isn't looking for an interview. _

"Yeah, I'm Stone." He answers, his voice flat – devoid of interest. "_You_?"

"Gar." he answers, brightly. "Gar Logans."

Vic turns, sightly – the metal half of his face, still shrouded in the shadows of dusk ... and, the flap of a light-gray "hoodie."

He smiles.

"Sooo ..." he remarks, grinning — _almost. _"You're the kid, who's lookin' to take my spot, huh?"

Gar freezes. "_No_!" he yelps. "No, sir!"

"Relax, kid." The larger boy shrugs, his back still turned. "I'm not gonna _hurt _ya."

"Oh." he squeaks, pathetically, scratching the back of his neck, and grinning foolishly.

"You're one _weird_, dude – Gar Logans."

"Yeah, I guess." he pauses, eyes cast along the ground. "Hey ... Vic?"

"Where ya been? I mean ... you _used _to go here, didn't you?"

"Still do. Home-schooled."

"Oh ... so, you read _Withering Heights_?"

Vic sighs, "_'Terror made me cruel; and finding it useless to attempt shaking the creature off, I pulled its wrists to the broken pane, and rubbed it to and fro 'till the blood ran down and soaked the bedclothes ...'_"

Gar appears stunned. "Creepy." he breathes

Victor rolls his eyes, "It's a _quote _'lil dude ... which means, yeah, I've _read _it – but, don't expect me to do any book reports."

"No. I-It's just _weird_, ya know – talking to you ... one day your this school's MVP ... and – and then, the next ... your gone. People thought you were dead."

"Should be." he laughs, sardonically and shakes his head. "Damn place." he grumbles. "Can't leave for a year, without people tryin' to write your will."

"You're starting to remind me of, Rach — all dark an' stuff." Gar thinks aloud.

"_Rach_? ... Your lady?"

Gar shrugs. "We went out — I _think _– but, I mean – I haven't _kissed _her."

The taller boy snorts. "Well, don't think you're kissing _me_."

Gar growls in annoyance. "Sarcasm – another _Rach–_thing."

"You're alright, 'lil man!"

"You too, Vic. Ya know, you really _should _think about comin' back to this place, no one's _ever _gonna believe I actually _talked _to ya."

"So – they _still _remember me, huh?"

"Totally."

Victor turns back to the other boy, lifting his hood slowly and drinking in the "kid's" expression — and he doesn't look freaked ... only – _fascinated_.

"Hey." he chokes – his voice dry. "Cool."

"If ya say so Gar."

They start walking.

"Hey, Vic?"

"Mm?"

"Ya think you might know anything about how to get a Goth-girl's attention?"

**ooo**

"Hey, cutie."

_These words. _

_I feel ... confused._

_On this world, or so I have heard. They would undoubtably hold some level of admiration – or ... warmth._

_But in this boy's voice, there was _none_._

_It was ... cold._

_And I was frightened._

_Though, I was not sure why._

_He nose was crooked, and placed impossibly close to my own — he was not a pleasant sight to behold. His dark hair was pushed in an unkempt manner across his voice. And his exhales smelled of some _awful _unknown substance._

_His teeth were crooked as well – and very yellow._

_His eyes were as black as the skies of Tamaran had been, on the sixty long nights of the Gordanian evasion. _

_Where was Kom?_

_Could she not sense I was in need of her assistance?_

_Perhaps my emotions were unfounded — perhaps this was merely one of many Earthern customs I was unaware of. _

_The boy's lips lean toward mine – his hand braced against the wall behind her — could he perhaps be seeking to gain knowledge?_

_His mouth lingers on my own for no more than a few moments – instantaneously discrediting my theory._

_Of course ... humans did not gain knowledge in our way — what was he after?_

_He mouth traces a vertical path along the line of my jaw._

_A frightened tremor crawls along my spine — this stranger meant me harm — this was certain._

_I grip his wrist — one flash of rage, and a twist of my muscle, and the bone would shatter — perhaps beyond repair._

_But ... I realize – I cannot harm him this way, I have never held true to the warrior instinct of our kind, and I do not wish to place in jeopardy our lives on this planet._

_I ... cannot._

**ooo**

The son of a bitch had his hands on her.

Feeling her up like a sex-doll.

That shit-eating grin on his face ... the _bastard _— he had no _fucking _right to touch her, he _knew_ she didn't want it.

That bastard.

_That bastard! _

My throat goes numb — that enraged scream is coming from me, and there's a metal pipe in my hand, I'm sure one of these _low-lives_ left in on the grounds _— in this case ... lucky me_.

The pipe meets his shoulder with a _clang _as he attempts to block my shot.

A look of pure, undeniable loathing across the _scum-bag's _face as he knows that it's me trying to break his skull.

"Cheap shot, Grayson — although, not bad for a _rich boy_ — _Daddy _teach ya that move?"

_Bastard_.

I swing toward his jaw, hitting him with all I've got — and I've drawn blood.

_Scum _doesn't seem to mind – wiping it off his lip, and chuckling like a goddamn clown.

"Aw, _what'sa matter, Rich–ie_ – half the _skirts _in this place handin' ya their panties ain't enough, for ya? ... ya gotta, intrude on my private business?"

"Intrude, huh?" I keep my grin smug — "That's a _big _word – finally decide to learn your ABC's?"

"Real cute, _Grayson_ ..."

He swings, I duck.

"Glad you think so ..." I laugh, hooking my foot under his, and sending him crashing to the pavement. "But, I'm sorry..."

I loom over him, slamming my fist into the thug's nose, as soon is he spit out a tooth — still determine to make it look like this is all a game — "I don't lean way."

"Could'a fooled me, _Dick_."

I'm just about to feed the bastard his own forearm, when there's a hand at my shoulder.

"I got this, man." he turns toward Fang.

"You gotta problem?"

_Leech _only looks more amused.

"Well, Vic Stone. Come back from the dead to save your _lover_?"

"Funny you should talk about death — bein' so damn close to it yourself."

"Oooo ... nice _threat_, tin-man – shouldn't you be in a side-show somewhere?"

"Leave. Now. And, you put your hands on the 'lil lady again, Dick won't be your only problem – ya hear me?"

"Whatever."

And the crowd I hadn't seen forming, departs — and the Stone kid turns to me.

"You alright, man?"

"You kidding, _asshole _barely left a scratch – but thanks, Vic ... _Stone_,was it? 'Thought you were in some kind of accident last year."

He shrugs, rolling his shoulders when he says, "Does it look like it killed me?"

I smile. "No."

He laughs, "Now that ya saved her, you just might have a shot with the 'lil lady — if her sister ain't hanging around."

"How did you ...?"

"News travels fast — I was just givin' Gar, some love advise myself, when _pot-head _made a seen – I may have been away for a year – but, don't think I'd forget the scum _tryin' _to sell me some "cheap grass" — bastard should know I don't do that shit."

I laugh again. "Good to know."

"Rich Grayson?"

"Yeah."

"Good to meet you, man."

"You too."

_**Whew**_**, that was a **_**long**_** one! Well, now that everyone [more or less] is good 'n acquainted, shouldn't be long, now before they're one-big-happy-family.**

**Next up: Star and Rae have some I've-just-met-you girl-talk ... and try and talk themselves into excepting differences, AND fluff ensues from both couples, as Star thanks her "hero" – and our favorite [no longer] green bean, tries his hardest to sweep Rae off her feet.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9, people — anyone give a crap?**

***crickets***

**I thought not. **

**Chapter 9: Virtues & Vices **

She'd swept her bangs over it.

She'd kept it hidden.

Protected.

Unseen.

But, it was _there_. And _no _amount of cover-up could change that. She was almost tempted to _laugh_.

This morning.

This _day._

One of the _thousands _of ever-lasting moments that she'd found herself wishing for that vapid normalcy.

That wonderful, shallow, "doom's-day dread" [clever choice of words] that constant fear of a ruined birthday bash, that repulsive, puss-filled end to a perfect fairy-tale evening.

She _wished _her life were as simple.

The mark burned, and pulsed, and itched, and ached. And she squeezed her eyes shut in un-expressed panic, as she'd tried from a countless number times to remind herself the uncomfortable sensations were merely an illusion of the mind.

_Unlike a certain _father's_ coming._

The blood-red 'S' thrashed, like a snake beneath the paled skin of her forehead.

_I won't help you._

_I _won't

**ooo**

_Ugh, too _strong_._

_That damn dog just_ had_ to choose the fire hydrant right within my smelling range _— _now, I've gotta pee on it._

These were his thoughts as he stood on the street corner on that night — he'd ditched school today, Vic's cliches had done little to help, he hadn't known how to approach Rachel, and at this point, he wasn't sure if he even _wanted _to – his life had enough _wrong _with it, why add other abnormality to the mix.

A high-pitched whine, and the ringing of a choke chain.

_Goddamn _fleas.

He crossed the street corner, and made his way to the black-and-white form of the hydrant on all-fours. A fur-covered, green-glinted leg is lifted.

Another whimper.

_Why do cats hate _water _so much? _— _damn rain _— _if I were a tabby right now, I wouldn't _smell _so bad._

The bladder of the forlorn green mutt is empty, and relief is found.

The form of a teenage boy, clad in a black hood, and summer-faded jeans takes his place.

_Home. _

The door's unlocked. A tiny, little building shrouded in shadows, and wall-to-wall couches.

Tiny sleeping faces huddled against each other, some stir at his entrance, but one gangly figure stands in the doorway.

Her pigtails are matted, and she rubs her sleepy eyes.

"Gar?" the word in a dreamy hush, as the screen door clicks closed.

"Mel?" he cries, eyebrows raised in concern. "What're you doin' up, kid? – have a bad dream?"

She nods, frantically 'no' – "It's ... it's just ... Gar ..." I thick yawn, she looks as though she may fall over at any moment.

"Timmy's cranky, and Teether keeps chewin' on my crayons — we want a story, Gar — about the Doom Patrol"

She tries her best to pull an adoring smile, in her half-asleep state, "Please?"

A grin shows on his face, and "Mel" looks incredibly pleased with herself.

He scoops her up, and trots down the hall, "Sure, kid."

**ooo**

_Azarath. Metrion. Zynthos. _

_Azarath. Metrion. Zythos._

This was chanted beneath a mind-painted vision of a sky, pitch black, and littered with scarlet stars.

_The Gem._

_The Gem._

_He's returning, Raven - And, There. Ain't No. Stopping. It._

"No"

_Yes_

"Who are you? ... _Who_?"

_Heh heh heh heh – _A deep throated cackle sounds, like a demonic clown, haunting a child's nightmares.

And it grows louder, breaking from the corridors of her mind, and into existence right in front of her.

Bleeding through the walls, thick and sickening, choking her – twining in her lungs like thick thorns, and making breathing – one of the most simplistic of acts, the most challenging.

"What a shame, Rae." He sucks his teeth – hissing out breath, like something inhuman, a mock expression of pity. Flipping a worn bit of copper into the air, and grinning at her with yellowed teeth. His brown eyes flashing a slightest hue of an angry red.

Her stomach contracts violently, as she tries her hardest to maintain complete composure – like always.

"Don'cha know your own _brother_?"

"We are not blood."

"Mmm – I know you wanna believe that." he sighs, taking a step nearer to her. "'Lieve me, at times I wish you weren't either."

He grins.

Menacing.

Lustful.

The son of Trigon.

"Such a _fiiinnne _'lil, lady – my _sister_." He brushes her thigh ever-so slightly, his touch, light and bitter-cold, like the slinking of a serpenton her flesh.

The lamp at her bedside shatters.

"Aw, _shame_." he clucks, "That was 'real nice – your Mama buy ya that?"

"Leave! _Now_!" her lower lip trembling fiercely, the murky shadow once her hand aims to collide straight for his head, shattering a mirror.

"Easy, _easy_, sis – I'm just here for a little family reunion." His expression cool, and completely unfazed.

Her jaw is set tight. "What is it you _want_, Jared?"

He cackles, "The name's _Wrath _'lil lady, and you're the _portal – _the clock is ticking"

She exhales calmly, and speaks with the most boundless of confidence. "I will _not _serve him."

"Ah, the rebellious teenage daughter – _I _always was Pops' _favorite_."

Raven sneers, a silent growl, building in her throat. "Father _favors _no one!"

A prideful grin. "_Envy _– huh, I always thought that was _Jake's _field of expertise."

"I. Will _Not_. Serve. Him." She hisses, and that dreadful mark cuts deeper, she grips her temple, willing it away.

The walls tremble.

"_Careful _– we wouldn't want Arella gettin' _hurt _would we?"

"You _dare _threaten my _mother_?"

"_I'm _not the threat honey, I swear you'll be the _death _'a her sooner or later." Her rage, his ecstacy, his unbridled delight.

And like the striking cobra, her forehead in his grasp, _Scathe's _mark searing like one though blades, bathed in the ember's of Hell – knifing at her skull. She fights the urge to vomit, heaving in his grasp.

His laughter like poisoned honey, as he drops her to the ground, leaving her on her knees, arms wrapped around her shoulders – trembling.

"L-_Leave_." A weak, child's voice uttering the command.

"Huh." Wrath scoffs – "_Look _at yourself, Raven _– _you're _pathetic _– no wonder you're just Pops' _door _into this place.

"Shut up! – Silence! I could _break _you!"

"He's coming back, Raven – and _I'll _be at his right hand – while you – well ... _huh - _well let's say _you _won't be celebrating the triumph of your _baby brother_ and _Daddy-dear_."

_The Gem was born of Evil's fire._

_The Gem shall be his portal._

_He comes to claim._

_He comes to sire._

_The end of all things mortal._

"It's a _lie_, Jared!"

"It's destiny!"

"He'll grant you _nothing_ – whatever promise he made, _nothing _will come of it."

"I'll _destroy _the ol' man if I have to – _I'll _get what I want, and you'll _die_."

The penny flips again, and falls with a _ping _to the floor.

"It's your _lucky _day, sis." he sneers, kicking it closer to her with the toe of his worn boot."Consider that a _parting _gift."

Jared turns. Vanishing into the shadows, the melody of her _destiny _on his lips.

Beside her, the broken mirror rests, reflecting back _two _sets of scarlet irises – belonging to the Daughter of Trigon.

**ooo**

"And the city was saved – thanks to ..."

"Mento." chirped a sleepy Melvin.

"Robot Man!" roared little Timmy, his "blankie" clutched tightly in hand.

"... 'Lasta – Gir." pronounced Teether, with great difficulty

"... and Negative Man." finished Garfield, his eyes half-lidded from exhaustion – they'd demanded one story after another, it made him kinda proud, they loved the Doom Patrol so much — but after three hours of tellings and re-tellings ... He'd honestly missed his bed – even the ripe scent of dirty socks'd smell nice right now.

"And Beast Boy." insisted Melvin, still struggling against the tides of sleep that threatened to pull her under.

"Huh, Mel?" Question the older boy, as he'd turned to make his way out before sun-up, scratching his chin absently, and contemplating a shave.

"You always _forget _Beast Boy, _Gar_." reprimanded the tiny blonde — annoyance still apparent in her voice. "You _know _he's my favorite."

"Yeah." slurred Garfield, though the sound of that name _did _strike a nerve.

He takes another step forward, looking as though he's paying tribute to a zombie flick, and dreamt that night of a skinny green _hero _who always messed everything up.

**ooo**

**I know, I promised some fluff in this chapter ... and some RobXStar ... but, I didn't expect **_**this**_** half to be so lengthy – I'm not even sure if I'll update after this ... no one seems to care anyway – **_**but **_**if you ARE interested, they **_**will **_**appear next week – in addition to the CyXSaraXBee love triangle, and the Rae/Star awkward conversation.**

**Good day, Sirs.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 - I think Slade may make an appearance, in later chapters - I don't know, I kept dreaming about him paying a visit to the Joker in Arkam - in an attempted to learn more about, and later recruit Robin — let me know if it's a dumb idea - been watching too many re-runs of TT lately and "Apprentice" has always been one of my favorites - and that whole "I already have a father" line of Robin's inside Wayne enterprises just gave me ... chills ... Okay, I get it - I'm out-dork-ing myself right now ^^; **

**Also, sorry for my previous complaints - although, I **_**still **_**wouldn't mind a review or two ... C'mon people, I'm **_**not **_**talking three-page critique, just a **_**sentence **_**on how you feel about it would be sufficient ... *huffs***

**Onward and upward.**

**ooo**

**Chapter 10: Freaks like me**

"Oh ... um – _pardon _me?"

The shadowed figure she'd bumped into merely grunted, making her feel all-the-more ... _oh, what was it that Earthen people said ... _uneasy?

"Forgive me, I – I merely require assistance in locating the one called – um – _Dick Grayson _– several others whom I have asked, have not been much help ... and ..."

She whimpered; the figure's brow barely rose – never once looking up from the ominous cover of the literature she'd held in her grasp.

"And, you want to thank him for saving you from that _guy _yesterday?"

She squeaked some form of reply; so this person _had _been listening.

"Y-yes, that is it – I wish to express my ... gratitude."

"Hmm." The figure rose, the slightest cousin of a smirk on her lips. "... Well, I'm not exactly one to keep tabs on Grayson – maybe you should ask one of them." Recommends, the dark-clad girl, pointing out a crowd of brightly dressed, giggling Earthlings – _all _female.

The group ceased their merry-making, and gazed at Starfire, as though she just ruthlessly crushed the unhatched egg of a small, helpless _Gro'rchin._

She cast her eyes away_._

"You've already asked them." The other girl spoke in a ... _sigh._

"Ye-..."

The stranger raises her hand.

"Grayson lives in Wayne-manor – it's big, dark house just up the road from here." she continues, "– you can't miss it ... he may not be home ..." she adds, taking a few strides away from the alien, "... like I said, I'm _not _one to keep tabs on – whoa!"

Raven is swept backward, hardly a match for Tamarainian strength, and is engulfed in a hug that could rival that of even the fiercest boa.

"Oh, _thank _you!" comes the cry, as the crushing continues. "_Thank you — _one-thousand thanks, Friend ... umm?"

"Raven." comes the muffled reply, "Call me, Raven."

"Friend _Raven_!" cries the more ... chipper of the two – releasing her "new friend" in one fluid motion, and bounding down the hall toward the building's exit.

"I AM FOREVER GRATEFUL, FRIEND RAVEN!" echos the 'thanks.'

"Don't mention it." the other mutters, shaking her head clear of that odd ... painful display of affection. _That's the last time I give directions._

**ooo**

"Um – _pardon_ – I am looking a– _Dick Grayson _– might he be at ... um, _home_?"

The human at the doorway greeted her kindly, standing straight and tall – the familiar stance of warriors on her home planet, before battle – a _dignified _position. His eyes were a sort of _silver _shade, and a small patch of lines wove around them – a sign of age; of _wisdom. _She felt immediately warm in his presence; his aura like that of her_ k'norf'ka, _Galfore

The architecture of the building _was _... dark ... as Friend Raven had mentioned, but by no means was it un-welcoming. It was large, and seemed as if it had been assembled several years before it began to house its current residence; Starfire was _no _stranger to this type of dwelling, the castle on Tamaran where she had spent her early childhood had been standing for several earth centuries, housing generations of nobles – her ancestors.

A warm, _delicious _odor, wove it's way beyond the large door that the gentleman held open.All six of her stomachs immediately recognizing that this meant _edibles _– calling out to her profusely.

"Master Dick is currently preoccupied with a _crucial _task, I'm afraid – but you _are _welcome to wait for him in the parlor, if you're hungry – I've just baked a batch of fresh croissantsMiss ..."

"Korian–um ... Star ... Star_fire._"

_They are unable to decode Tamarainian titles – I must _remember.

"Miss _Starfire _– come in, will you?" he beckoned, "It isn't proper etiquette to allow a lady to _starve_ ..."

"No, _no_ ..." she declined, politely – "Iam not very ..."

Her stomachs grumbled in protest, refuting her argument at an instant.

"I would like that _very _much, Friend ..."

"_Alfred_, Miss Starfire ... come in, come in!"

A smile graced her large green eyes, as she stepped inside.

**ooo**

The smell of leather lingered in his nose, as he wrenched the mask off of his face, banishing the body heat it had kept sealed, and allowing the night air to weave along the uncovered skin.

A puddle had gathered on the rooftop where he stood, marking past rainfall. He breath shown angrily in a violent puff of smoke, as he _cursed _the sky-blue eyes that stared back at him through the water's reflection.

They had belonged to his mother, the last time he had been willing to look into them, painted with joy at first, then raw confusion, then finally stricken with a paralyzing fear.

Seconds before she had fallen to her death – and his father soon followed – there was no safety net to catch them.

He struck the ground in a rage, sending droplets of water scattering along the pavement beneath him, in every direction – a brilliant red shade stained his palm.

Crying out in pain and taking several awkward steps backward, he clutched the mask again – breathing in its funny scent.

It brought back memories – of the day Bruce had taken him in – of the wide-eyed wonder and disbelief a few mouths afterward, when his guardian's " little secret" was stumbled upon, by an eight-year-old, pain-in-the-ass Rich — who'd been so eager to be _Wonder Boy_.

_Now _– _it's just _... painful.

He grimaced, eye's cast toward his wounded hand.

This "mysterious bad-boy" routine was becoming played out, at school — and Bruce still treated him like some irresponsible _kid _– a tipsy champagne-soaked _rich _boy.

_Just like that bastard Fang._

As soon as the thought had entered his mind, he recalled poor Star; crouched in a corner beneath that _asshole_,wearing an expression like ... she was _afraid_.

_Like she had _no _clue what was happening ... or - what would have happened if I hadn't ... if I hadn't ..._

The thought send flames through his blood – _that _prick _had no right to touch her._

"And, if he _ever _puts his hands on her again ... I'll ... I'll ..."

His brow furrowed – why the _hell _did he _care _so much.

Couldn't have been the genes – he'd never have Bruce's blood ... or the _balls _to annoy "Gotham City's Finest"by being a vigilante — he was the _sidekick, _just along for the ride – it had been something of a _game _to him at eight-years-old, and the mask had made him feel ... _cool_.

The memory stung him like one-thousand volts – little fingers pressed against the glass door of the manor, as the Bat-mobile sped away, hoping the smell of Alfred's cooking would help make him feel better.

"_You could get 'real hurt, Dick – stay here with Alfred – I'll be back."_

"_But, Bruce ..."_

He flexed his bleeding hand – seeing it had dried to a burnt red color.

"Shit," he breathes – he's gotta get this thing taken care of, and standing on a rooftop won't do that job – _Time to head back_.

**ooo**

She was here simply for _research_,for _preparation _– nothing more.

Her forehead singed again – wondering if anyone else had heard that _hiss_ it had made.

_The written word should be a powerful ally_.

She paused at her destination, inwardly repeating her mantra, to combat the burning blush rising in her cheeks.

She'd convinced herself that a trip to _this _section of the book store was necessary.

If _Jared _had caused such a disturbance last night, there would be no telling what havoc _Jesse _would reek.

Her first sibling had merely been the embodiment of _Wrath _an emotion she, herself was all-too-familiar with at times; anger was something she _knew_, irritation, something that _couldn't _be avoided or cast aside. _This _was different – _love _was something she _knew _she would never come to know (at least in it's "romantic" form) – and it's dark twin was a complete enigma to her.

And, so ...

_Erotic Literature – the bottom of the barrel – the un-feeling trash of the artistic world, just one step up from pornography. ... But it's all I've got, my only armor._

She scanned this "section" carefully – eyes glancing over titles, and images of tall-and-dark men with blonde-and-bustytraps wrapped securely in their arms – chanting slowly with each breath.

And, just as every sitcom, every lame Saturday night you-have-to-be-there joke demanded, the comely store clerk walked up from behind her, with the pure intention of "offering assistance in her purchase"

**ooo**

"Master Dick, whatever _happened_!" exclaimed Alfred, at first sight of Robin's wound.

"Accident." he shrugs, adjusting the sink-tap, and watching the blood and water swirl down the drain in a pink-ish hue.

Wincing at it's constant burn, and drying it gently with a hand towel, he stopped in his tracks as he noticed his "house-guest" – she sat silent, regarding the gash in his hand with a look of concern, and then looking peering upward at his face, smiling shyly.

"Hi." he stated, dumbly – watching a pink shade rise to her cheeks.

"Hello." she answered, she then peered at Alfred; furrowing her brows for a movement, she fumbled slightly, and in a hushed voice said, "I really must be going ... my sister ..."

"Stay!" the word came from his throat, before he'd even recognized his own voice. Alfred's eyes widened in shock, before regarding Robin with a knowing smile.

"You – you don't _have _to leave."

"I agree." the sturdy voice of his butler answered, "You're company was greatly cherished, Miss Starfire, and there will be a _lovely _view of the stars from the rooftop this evening." he continued. "Perhaps, Master Dick would like to show you."

"I – would." he answered, slowly – smiling evenly, when Star rose from her seat to accompany him; the two headed toward the long, winding staircase to the rooftop – Dick, bidding Alfred a silent 'thanks'

**ooo**

She wrinkled her nose. It was raining ... again; making the air smell clean, but the concrete smell like mud and air pollutants.

A odd looking, dirt-covered mutt rummaged through her friendly, neighborhood dumpster – and, her arms ached from the stacks of dirty literature that the saleswomen had talked her into buying.

Her hair was damp.

Angela would be proud of her feint disappoint if she had hear it – a bad hair day was something fairly "normal"

A gruff bark, and the tapping of nails against the rough concrete sounded.

The _damn _dog was following her.

She was tempted to let Rage overtake her for a moment – she _hated _smelly animals. And she was in _no _mood for company. One stare tainted with demon blood, would be enough to make the thing tuck tail and run.

But ...

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

_Tick. Tick Tap._

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

The footprints behind her grew heavier, sounding nearly _human _now, maybe the mutt have gone off, leaving his owner to finish stalking her – this, she regarded with little interest. Fear was useless – she could easily take down any threat, if need be.

_Tap. Tap Tap._

_TapTapTap._

He was _running _now, almost _desperate _to catch up to her.

_Desperate._

"Hey, Raven!"

She stopped dead in her tracks.

"Garfield?"

"Yeah ..." he panted, slowing to a halt as soon as he was at her side. "I ... um ... Hey, Raven."

She pursed her lips. Blinking. "How did you know that I ...?"

"I asked around." he answered, shrugging as he continued to suck in breath. "Some goth dude at school said you like bein' call 'Raven' – so, I thought I'd given it a try."

She rolled her eyes, scoffing – she'd remembered who he'd been referring to – the leader of the group of highschool "wikens" had tried to convince her to join them once before, a group of pathetic whining brats, who called out fake spells at random and set fires in fields on Saturday nights ... _true rebels _she thought, with a dry laugh.

He huffed for the last time – and grinned at her.

_Out of breath _already? _Some jock._

"What?" she asked, blankly.

"'What?' _What_?" he responded.

Her left brow curved, almost vanishing beneath her hairline. She rolled her eyes.

"You're never leaving me alone – are you?"

He allowed a brief flicker of hurt to flash across his eyes, before merely shrugging. "I guess not."

He laughed, placing his gloved hand on top of the hood of his jacket as the rain began to pour harder.

"Fine." Her eyes pointed upward to the black sky, huffing out breath as she turned toward her door. "If you insist on following me, I may as well embrace it – for my own sanity." she muttered, lightly rubbing as the scorching mark on her forehead. "If we're going to be ... _friends_."

She choked out the word, "... I think we should try to learn a few things about each other."

"Right." he smiled.

The water from the hood of his jacket slipped downward – coating his nose.

Emerald skin began to show, and he gasped in horror, quickly slapping a palm over his face.

She turned back to him swinging open the door, and the utmost confusion crossed her face.

"Um ... you okay?" she questioned.

"Fine." he laughed, determined to hide his nervousness. "Just, uh ... peachy ..."

"_Peachy_." she repeated, in flat disbelief.

"Mm-hmm." he replied, turning his thumb upward.

_Drip_. _Drip. Drip._

The droplets continued to fall.

And now he was _sweating _on top of it ... _great_.

Raven payed him one last suspicious glance, before turning to tend to a whistling tea kettle.

"I'm not much of a hostess." she stated. "We don't usually have guests ... I guess I should offer you ... a _drink_?"

"Mm-hmm."

She headed over to the fridge and poured him a glass of water.

"Ice?" she asked.

"No, thanks." His eyes were wide, and he remained still, _frighteningly _still.

"Um ... you can, uh ..._ sit_, Garfield." He nodded, slowly – still unmoving. Then, before she could blink he quite animatedly slid across the hard-wood floor, pulled out a chair, and sat.

The fluidity of his movements was ... _odd_ even for her.

Unknowingly, he had spilled the water in his "mad dash", and had just placed a very un-gloved hand right in it – his "normal" formula was melting away under her gaze – spreading from his palm, to his wrist, to the back of his hand.

He followed her eyes, looking as though he were about to be sick, than jumped up in defense.

"It-It's not what it looks like!" he cried, the sudden thickness of the air causing him to sneeze.

Raven's eyes widened in shock. Where the lithe shape of Garfield Logans had been, now sat the same floppy-eared mutt whom had stalked in the ally.

It whimpered. And, Gar once again appeared before her, green as a ripe celery stalk.

He chuckled slightly. "I-I guess I should explain, huh?"

"I'm all ears."

**ooo**

**Cliff Hanger, hanging from a cliff. And-that's-why-he's-called Cliff Hanger.**

**Yes, that was a **_**Between the Lions **_**reference, there ... DON'T JUDGE ME!**

**Reviews, por favor.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11, folks – the fluff-packed sweetness with a dark-sour center.**

**I decided to go ahead and include Slade here soon, even though - I never got much **_**feedback **_**on the matter ... *grumbles* – oh well, enjoy!**

**Oh, one more thing — I've chosen a "theme song" for this chapter – the RobxStar part ... okay ... maybe a little of the BbxRae too – and, of course we can't forget CyxSar ... or CyxBee ... I haven't quite decided which to go with yet ... ^^; **

**Anyway, the song's called "Somewhere Out There" by Our Lady Peace – listen to it, it's **_**incredible**_**.**

**Okay, I'll let you read now.**

**ooo**

**Chapter 11: Garbage and City Lights**

The skyline shone a dark indigo, littered with tiny patches of starlight.

Alfred had been right, it _was _beautiful.

And, the way she looked – curious and wide-eyed – she ... _shined _– it was like, the sun had never hidden behind the earth to mark night's coming – it was here with him.

_She _was here with him.

Oh, if Bruce could only _hear _the sap spewing from his brain – he'd _never _hear the end of it.

"Are you cold, Star?" he questioned, assuming he'd better speak up before she doubted his communication skills any further.

"No, Richard." came the response. "I assure you, I am quite ... _warm._"

"Mm." Rich grunted. "Your name ... _Star _– that's kinda _pretty_." he finished, tugging on his collar.

She nodded, smiling shyly – a 'thank you' gesture. "You have the most ... _interesting _name, as well ... _Richard Grayson ..._"

She'd spoken it softly — _Almost like ... a prayer._

He felt a familiar heat rising to his cheeks – as he watched her sway with the breezes that touched them, she twirled slowly – like she were dancing to some silent song somewhere.

"You know," Dick coughed, suddenly feeling incredibly embarrassed for the words trapped in his throat. "... you're not ... _like _other girls, Star – you're ... uh ..."

She rose a scarlet eyebrow. "I _am_?"

"It's just ... you're – you're ... so ..."

She nodded. "Although, I do not fully understand ... I think I may ... _understand_." she finished, awkwardly, rubbing her shoulders.

He was somewhat _relived _that she seemed to have the same difficulties – stumbling over her words.

"I want to thank you, _Richard_." Starfire spoke, narrowly avoiding the subject of 'feelings.'

"... for my — _rescue_, from that ... _boy_.

The boy's face suddenly hardened.

"Yeah." he spoke, gravel in his voice.

"I must ... ask, what was he was trying to ...?"

It was then that the rain began to fall, raising patches of ice on her skin.

"Oh!" she cried, eyes widening in fear, as she wove, desperately trying to avoid the droplets.

"Star?" Robin questioned.

"Star ... _Star!_" his voice becoming more frantic, as she continued to bob and weave – certain that the rain was the first step in a _war _against _this _planet as well.

"_Star_." he voice softer now, he gripped her arms tenderly, and was shocked to see her eyes glistening with tears. "_Star _... it's okay, it's just _rain_."

"_Rain?_" she repeated, her voice small.

"It's alright, it's water ... see?" Rich demonstrated, holding out his bare palm beyond the ledge, and allowing the rain to soak it.

"Rain." she repeated, in a calmed sigh. "I am sorry I have caused you such distress, Friend Richard ... I will – not behave in such a manner again."

"... Okay." he repeated, still at a loss. "Where did you say you were from?"

"From." the Tamarian whispered, her lips knit to a tight line. "I am from ... far ... away." she pointed beyond the roof's edge as Robin had, and out into the star-marked night – allowing the moisture to gather on her wrist, "... Out there."

**ooo**

He felt like such a _creep _watching her.

The way the lead of her pencil stoked the page delicately – carving out an image.

She face wrought with a stern determination, as she brushed a troublesome strand of blonde hair away from her eyes, and continued.

More tresses feathered out from the back of her neck, swaying softly in the breeze of a nearby ceiling fan – like wheat ... or something, and it worried him that he had the urge to touch it.

_Stone ... _he scolded himself, with a gentle roll of his human eye — _... you're a goddamn ... _

"Vic?"

He immediately sobered, the particular ... _being _that he had been ... _observing _– had noticed him ... noticing _her_. "... Can I help you with something?" she continued, flashing him a bright smile — _like an angel_.

"No – uh ... No, Sar." Victor spurted, smiling back in an effort to hide his embarrassment – fortunately, only _half _of his face turned beat-red. "You – seem to be working pretty hard, anything _I _can help you with?" he asked, with a quick raise of his eyebrow – he grinned flirtatiously, there _were _certain aspects of life in which being a genius came in fairly handy – although, he would _never _admit that to his father.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't think this is _your _field of expertise, Stone." Sara giggled, allowing him a quick glimpse of her work. "I'm sketching a design for a new brand of prosthetics ... ya know, less _noticeable _ones – so that kids that are just learning to ... _cope _– won't _stick out _so much."

"Hey ..." Vic smiled, his eyes flashing. "That's really sweet – I mean, I know how cruel kids can be ..." he sighed, touching the metal half of his face, and frowning grimly. "_I've_ been called every name in the ..."

A slender finger is at his mouth, stopping him in mid sentence.

"Save it." she whispers, flashing him another smile. "I think you look ... _great_ – no matter _what _they say."

Heat rises to his cheeks again – causing his smooth, dark complection to somewhat brighten. "Thanks." he mumbles, brown eyes cast downward toward the gymnasium floor. "Hey, Sar – I was ... Ow, _damn_!" A sharp pain radiates through his skull, as he turns to face the source of their little "disturbance"

"Sorry, _Sparky_!" bellows a smug-looking, Karen Beecher — lips forming an annoyed pout as she points directly at the volleyball that had struck Victor's head. "Can I have that _back, _now?" she grumbles.

"Nice shot, _Bee_-ch!" Cyborg calls back – handing the 'intrusion' back to her, and forming a pout of his own. "You might need to _work _on that!"

Her forest irises rolled upward – "Thanks for the tip, _Vicky_!" she sneers, casting a quick glance towards Sara and angrily muttering "... _Sims_ ..."

"Hi." the blonde mumbles back, clearly not interested in "making nice"

"Shouldn't you be getting back to your _game_?" mutters Vic, through clenched teeth.

"Right." snorts a disgruntled Karen before turning on her heel, and taking off in a huff.

"_God_, Sar ..." the boy remarks, eyes still narrowed in Karen's direction. "Sometimes, I wonder what that girl's problem is!"

Sara regards this with a troubled smile, before responding rapidly to the bell, and beckoning a 'Later, Stone!' in Vic's direction.

Leaving the once 'star-quarterback' to once again contemplate the winding, complex info-structure that was the female mind.

**ooo**

"Okay," he started, his eyes now a burnt-emerald and cast downward toward the hard-wood floor. "I know this may be a lot for you to process, Rae – but ... just ... hear me out."

The girl merely nods, her arms folded expectantly across her chest.

"My parents were both conducting an important ... _experiment_, I guess – in Africa, where a spent most'a my childhood, it had'a do with both human and animal DNA." When she didn't respond – he huffed in breath, and continued. "... I didn't quite understand _what _exactly it was about, I was just a little kid, and ... I kinda left them to their "grown up" stuff – one day while my folks were busy, I was playin' by myself, and got too near a monkey that I thought looked kinda funny ... I ended up gettin' hurt – 'real bad."

A flash of sympathy struck Raven's eyes as her companion winced, perhaps reliving the pain of the attack.

"My parents saved me." Gar continued, his voice thick – "... they did anything and everything they could to make me better – as it turns out, whatever research they were _doin' _wound up saving my life — even if it did turn my skin green."

She nods, "And the _shape-shifting_?"

"Animal DNA." he states, "... traces of it are inside me – I guess, it was another side effect."

"Mm." she nods, "You are very lucky that your parents loved you so much ... but then ... you were never a mistake, Garfield — you were made through _love _... unlike _me_."

His brows furrowed, his mouth forming a tight, curved line. "Wha' do you mean, Rae?"

"Come." she beckons, "I'll show you."

**ooo**

"_... 'far away'_?" Richard whispers in disbelief, "... _'out there'_?"

"Yes ..." mutters the girl – feeling suddenly incredibly foolish for having divulged such crucial information, to a stranger she'd met merely _once _no less — _What would _Kom _think? _

The next word on her lips coming out unclear, her green eyes, barely opening to watch her shadow flicker along the pavement. _She had _betrayed_ Kom ... she had betrayed _herself_ ... she had betrayed — _

"Tarmaran." her knees suddenly feeling the weight of the strange planet Earth on top of them, _crippling_ her. "A small planet – 'at the least' one galaxy apart from yours, Friend Richard_**.**_"

"... I _knew _there was ..." the earthen boy muttered – his tone carrying an emotion that even _her _senses couldn't register. "I always ... _knew_."

Starfire's down-cast eyes suddenly grew frantic, a sudden burst of panic shooting through her veins and propelling her to her feet. "_Please_!" she cried, tightly gripping the earth garment that he wore to shield his upper body. "_Please _... speak that I was not foolish to bestow ... 'the trust'!"

A waterfall of tears breaking from behind her eyes, half-hidden by the angry rain, that only seemed to fall harder. He merely gapes at her – awestruck. "... we mean your planet _no _harm – _Nos'ta Hos'teel!_" She clicks her an unfamiliar tongue, still clinging to him as though she expected him to run away from her in a fit of screams – the rain soaking her fire-like hair, slicking it down — _a dying flame_.

"Please ... we are in 'the hiding' – we are not safe ... _please_!"

Richard Grayson shakes his head in a slow and unnerving motion – furthering her fears. His lips are pursed – "I knew ..." he muttered, "I _always _knew there was something different about something different about you, Star."

The sweet baritone of his voice was calming – and not-at-all the harsh fear-filled rage she'd been expecting — still unsure, she held tight to the whimper she felt burbling in her throat.

He had felt her tremble – suddenly feeling brave enough to reach out the touch her – and ran a calloused hand through her hair.

"You don't have to worry." he mutters, in the same serene tone, talking his thumb and his index finger and running it slowly between her lips — chuckling lightly at her confusion.

"It means, 'your secret's safe with me'." He answers.

She smiles, staring at him with gleaming eyes before engulfing him in a tight hug – though the force was not as strong as it could have been – she had learned from Kom; humans were more ... _fragile_.

Dick laughs lightly again, placing his hands around the small of her back, and returning her hug for a moment, before lifting the alien off of her feet, and swinging her around in a small circle.

Starfire squealed happily – feeling as though a thousand winged insects of bright colors have taken flight somewhere within her – she concluded, that she would quite like earth-rain – for as long as she remained here ... with Dick Grayson.

**ooo**

It was a charcoal sketch — and a very good one. Rae had talked about them learning a thing or two about one another, and from the looks of this work, Garfield had learned that not _only _was she good at Shakespear and had an intense love of all things dark and gloomy, but she was a _damn _good artist too.

But he was confused.

It shown a castle – or a _city _rather – of very majestic looking buildings, resting calmly on top of a large mass of diamond shaped earth — amerced in a sea of clouds. Like something you'd find in any child's storybook; a work of _fantasy — _what was it's significance?

Noting the quizzical expression he had given her, she answered in her same monotone, "It's my _home_, Gar – where I was _born_ – Azarath."

"A–ah–Azar ...?" he babbled, trying to decode whatever he words meant – trying to make some sense of it.

"Azarath." she stated again, blinking at him — the guy was _green_, he could shape-shift, and, he'd been through several hardships of his own according to his stories – the _pain _she'd seen in his eyes couldn't be_ fake_ could it?

He blinked back, before speaking in a gruff voice that hardly seemed his own. "So ... you're like ... some kind of an ... _angel _... or ... something."

If there had been even an _ounce _of normality in the girl's bones she would've laughed – maybe even _blushed _at the fact that _The _Gar Logans had referred to her as one of the _divine_.

_I'm nothing close to an angel _she thought, bitterly – voicing merely an "... or something." as not to freak him out anymore then he probably was.

"Are you afraid?" she asked _I'm quoting that _cheap _romance _'Dawnlight' she huffed _I've hit rock bottom ... _

"No." he choked, "No, I-I'm just ..." he struggled to find words, frantically pawing at the wall next to him, and taking _no_ notice of the pointed screw sticking straight out of it. "Ah!" he cries, sucking in a pained breath, and closing his fingers around the sticky, scarlet stain that began to ebb along his palm.

Raven looked nervous – it was the first he'd ever seen her break her calm persona.

"Hold _still_." she whispered, taking a collection of delicate steps toward him, as he continued to cry out – wondering if this was all just some insane dream – the result of too much_ tofurkey_.

"Calm down." she ordered, gently lowering his injured hand down toward her, and manually spreading his stubborn fingers.

Gar's eyes widened at the sight, and he felt a wave of intense calm pool in his belly – her hand was glowing white, like a fresh burst of sunlight through the thick cloud cover – like what had sheltered the dying tulips at the abrupt end of their 'first date.'

When the blinding shadow had faded, his skin was intact – the blood saved – and there was no evidence of any scarring, he flexed his fingers.

"Geeze ..." he breathed, bewildered. "Forget payin' your way through medical school – thanks."

"Welcome." she uttered.

"You _are _good." he concluded, wearing her famed half-smirk.

She shrugs, biting back a smile. "I _try _to be."

"I'm not afraid of you." he states, as though it were ridiculous to even assume such that she were worthy of _fearing_ — she knew he was mistaken. "Whoever you are – _what_ever you are, it's something _good_, I know it. Your _human_, Rae."

At this, Raven was a bit taken back – no one who had_ truly_ known what she would eventually become would've ever called her _human _– not the monks, not Azar ... not even _Arella_ – her throat stung – and the house gave a violent shake, she groaned – as though in pain.

"You're _good_, Raven." Garfield spoke with coincidence, though his eyes shone worry at her little 'earthquake.' "I'm _not _– I could _never_ – you're too ... eeep!" The most _un-_manly of squeaks sprang from his lips as her arms wrap around him slightly – he thought about smelling her more often than was necessarily healthy – to touch her – to feel he hair between his fingers – and it was better than he'd imagined – old parchment, and incense, and fresh lavender, which, he guessed must be her shampoo. It was all too sweet to last – as quickly as the thought came did she pull away, wondering why nothing had been damaged in her odd little 'display.'

"It's getting late." she stated, he face slightly flustered as she glanced at the clock. "You should be getting home."

He regarded this 'suggestion' considerably for a moment, before shifting into a handsome looking tabby-cat, and mewing at her expectantly, twitching his little nose.

Rae sighed. "I _will _make myself okay with this!" she cried, throwing up her hands to no one in particular, before turning back and giving his cat-form a pointed look.

"I've always _hated _cats!" she barked, expecting him to scamper from the room and leave her in peace.

"_Mew_?"

"_Because_!" – because ... _because I'm losing my mind_. She stated, safe inside the realms of her mind.

"_Mew – mew?_"

"Shoo!" Raven barked, momentarily forgetting who she was talking to.

"_Purrrrr_ ..." Gar had leapt off the desk he'd been perched on in one foul swoop, the was running his sharp-cut, fur-covered cheekbone back-and-forth along her ankle.

"_Fine_." the girl heaved an exasperated sigh, fed up – and _still _grasping at an attempt to ignore how _weird _this was — Though, she was sure he felt the same.

She scooped up his light formed, and plopped him on the bed – where he grinned at her; looking more like his human-self when he'd gotten his way.

He positioned himself into a tight curl, and was already sleeping soundly as she kicked off her socks.

"G'night ... Garfield." Raven muttered, awkwardly, impulsively stroking as his soft head, and praying to whomever was up there that he wouldn't wake ... or, suddenly turn human.

For the first time in a long while, Raven Roth slept a non-fretful sleep – the ghost of an un-finished smile on her lips.

**ooo**

**Well, that's all she – **_**me **_**wrote. For **_**this **_**chapter anyway, I'd like to apologize to my readers – the ones who are also **_**Twilight **_**fans; I just **_**had **_**to poke some fun at it ... **_**I **_**was a fan of the books too once, ya know? And **_**I **_**could take a joke.**

**Oh, and those who were wondering why Bumble Bee was such a well ... 'B' in this chapter ... *sing-song* **_**La-la, la-la some-bod-y's jea-lous!**_

***giggles* I'd **_**really **_**like some feedback one which pairing I should choose to make the primary Cy-ship – yeah ... I **_**know **_**he stayed 'just friends' with Sara, and I **_**know **_**Bee married someone else, but **_**c'mon **_**Cy needs some love **_**too**_**!**

**Next up: Raven's second lil' bro Jesse/**_**Lust **_**makes an appearance, so ... a word of warning:**

**IT. WILL. GET. **_**SPICY**_**.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Numbah 12, peeps – enjoy!**

**ooo**

**Chapter 12: Bitter Avidity**

Her room was amerced in well-kept shadows as the break of dawn attempt to bathe it entirely in orange light.

She groaned, in her best impression of a bona fide seventeen year old unwilling to wake, and rolled over soundlessly into the warm cocoon of her bed-sheets to guard against the sudden chill that impacted her bones.

There was a _presence _here — she was _sure _of it, but couldn't Angela _tell_? All Raven desired at the moment was a few more minutes of _sleep_.

The chill traveling down her spine, merely grew more poignant as the strange figure moved toward her, arousing her curiosity for a moment. If this stranger meant to commit an hostile action, he would've struck her by now.

But there came no blow to her head; the earth did not seem to shatter at her feet, if there _was _some kind of threat – she would be ready. She remained painfully still for a moment, allowing one slow breath after another to tumble into her lungs – an illusion of just waking.

She tensed like a jungle cat on the verge of striking its prey, and breathed her mantra into the air, a murky, blackened shadow began to appear in her grip, as translucent as the present sunlight.

"Azarath, Metrion Zin–_oh_!"

He was pressed ever-so-lightly against her, in a dangerous — yet, oddly _comforting _– embrace.

Her throat felt as if she hadn't had a drop of water in days, and her tongue seemed coated with thick lead.

"G-garfield?" she breathed, as his slow purring began to drum against the cavern of her ear.

Purring was a perfectly ordinary action for cats when feeling pleased, or particularly affectionate — the problem?

He wasn't a _cat _anymore!

He was pinned against her, his sculpted arms supporting his weight, and resting on either side of her head, smiling lazily against her, as the unnatural, pleasing vibrations of his throat continued to send one thousand volts of feather-like electricity through her.

This was ... _nice_.

_Very _nice, she had to admit ... but of all the monks of Azar, _why _was he ... ? Was he ... ?

"What are you ...? _Oh, Azar!_"

She clamped a hand over her mouth with such force that it stung her, her eyes widening in shock.

His _tongue _was on her ear now!

He was _sampling _her like some fine French chocolate!

... And she'd _moaned_!

"Garfield." she muttered, intending to make it sound more forceful, but her voice just _couldn't _seem to find the right pitch.

This was _absurdity _– she was in _control _– lust was _beneath _her ... _wasn't it_?

"Hmm." the boy mumbled, the sound coated with mirth – he was _amused _by her confusion.

His lips traced a winding path down the tendon of her neck as she stretched it, desperate to avert his touch ... no matter how pleasing.

"Garfield." Raven choked out again, her eyes – a dark violet shade, now – gently lolling back against the warm tides of pleasure that the boy was stirring in her veins.

"Gar!" she tried again, desperate to _focus _– focus on _anything_!

Raven had no _idea _what an emotion so powerful could do – on, or off the earth-plain.

The _sunlight _– she would pick the _sunlight _– it was always so calming to her, watching it shroud the towers of Azarath in fire and shadows, as a child.

And now, it appeared as though it was dancing – licking lightly at the ebony satin that hung from beyond her window.

Licking.

_Licking_.

This. Was. _Bad_.

_Very _Bad.

_Get off of me _now_, so help me! _The thought came in an enraged command – in her mind – in her bones – in her veins, everywhere but through her mouth; rendering such a request utterly _useless._

"Damn it. Damn it. _Damn it_, Garfield _don't _make me hurt you!"

The thought coming out in an irrate growl, _finally _she'd gotten her voice working.

"You'd _never_." The response coming back in a cool, sly tone that she could hardly identifyas his – even though she hadn't know Gar for very long – _where was the awkwardness? ... where was that strange, light upward infliction in his voice? ...This was ... this was._

"_Not _Garfield." Raven gasped into the chocking thickness of the air around her, all-at-once relieved, and a bit ashamed for having fallen for this. But, shockingly – whatever Gar-manifested vision this was seemed _hardly _phased by her words.

He ... _It _– torn it's mouth from her neck, and peered down at her – a mix of pure delight, entwining with the raw lustful shadows in it's dark blue iris. " ... What that?" The words bubbled from the thing's throat drunkenly; syllables shattering like rain drops on pavement.

"You're not ..."

The muscles in her throat contracted roughly, and the illusion smiled, sweeping it's tongue into to her mouth, and then, in it's best expression of a gentleman, nudged lightly at her chin with it's finger tips. Sweeping it's nose along her stern jaw-line, breathing her in.

"I'm not ..." It muttered, smiling in approval as she began to tremble, it's mouth painting a path down the slight curve to her rib cage.

Raven was terrified at this, the tremors which shot down her spine like hot blades were not one's of fear, but of ...

Desire.

She _wanted _it's touch.

This _thing_. This blackened shadow, sent through the blistering embers of her father's birthplace, it's mission to _haunt _her – like the on-going nightmares of Azar's death which sliced through her sleeping mind as a child.

A sickening bile formed in her throat – it's taste so bitter, that it fought off the incessant purrs building in her throat.

This was a _lie_.

Garfield would _never _touch her in this way ... and if he ever found out what exactly the mysterious 'Raven' was – she'd be considered lucky if he even _looked _at her – she was a _monster_.

The Gar-shadow cupped her shoulders, muttering her name in a brief whisper below her navel where the bridge of it's nose rested.

"_Raven_ ..." it muttered, as though being stirred from a wondrous dream. "... _beautiful _..."

"I'm _not_!" she cried, desperate to move her subdued limbs in any direction to fend it off. "_You're not, _Garfield!" A vile growl building in her throat — driven by demon blood.

A blood-warm black shadow in her grip, her hand poised to strike, as it's chin remained on her

stomach – gazing up at her with eyes the color of blue flame, those that were unmistakably ...

_His_.

This vision _looked _like him – and _smelled _of him – and looked at her with his same, unusual intrigue.

Unusual _affection _... _caring._

"You don't ca ..."

Words seemed to fail her as she began to taste the salt of the strange occurrence of tears.

"Raven." The illusion muttered again, bringing it's upper body forward in one fluid motion, and capturing her lips in a kiss, lingering there for a moment.

"... _Rae _... Raven." The expression of Gar's voice coming out in a cracked whisper, her throat burned again with unshed tears.

"_Raven._" it sighed again, kissing her – along it's warm breath to dance gently across her face.

She _wanted _...

She wanted so _desperately _for this to be true — for someone to _care _without the weight of blood ties and the responsibly of the burden that was Raven Roth.

"_Rae_ ..." It muttered, it's expression as warm as the heat from its body.

She accepted it's kiss without any feeling of disgust, and slowly waved to the Gar-shadow as it faded into the gold-painted dust that danced in front of her window.

**ooo**

He remembered.

_The city lights, the thrill, the pressure in his bladder._

_Heros didn't pee before going to beat up bad guys – they_ didn't_. _

_The slow purr of the Batmobile's engine, and smell of gasoline, and the curves of the shadowed, winding roads that it traveled down. _

_Every other eight-year-old in Gotham would be searing with jealousy; this was the _coolest_!_

_And once Bruce figured out that he had stowed away ... well ... he would _definitely _be grateful once "Robin" helped kick The Joker's butt._

_Joker — the guy was a _psycho _– Bruce always said so ... among other things – Bruce never _did _like sayin' swear words in front of him, and was always careful to stop himself – but Dick could read lips._

_He smiled._

_Then furrowed his brow in disgust at a certain "thought." _

_He'd heard in the news recently that the Joker had "rehabilitated" one of his "doctors" _– _and that she went bonkers and decided to help him out with a few "pranks."_

_Bruce laughed when he'd heard that according to news reports, the two had became "romantic" in their pursuits. _

_Yuck! — he hoped they wouldn't start _kissing _and stuff. _

_Kissing was so _gross_._

_The car halted to a stop – and he suddenly felt like he'd had too much sugar cereal; he was smiling so hard he thought his cheeks would pop; intense excitement buzzing inside his veins._

_He held his breath, waiting for the tell-tale sound of the Dark Knight's footsteps on the ground outside. _

_The shadowed silhouette entered the abandoned factory, and the little "Robin" – unbeknownst to Bruce – followed suit._

He remembered — the _painful _part – _... Stupid kid ..._

_Voices at the back window – anger ... and struggles — and before he could even register what was happening, his legs were aching from the run, and he was inside._

_Standing wide-eyed in front of the creep Bruce had been trying to stop for years._

_There was no voice resembling that of a hero to be found on his tongue — only dying _stupid _whimpers._

_The Joker was ... _scary_. He face was riddled with scars, wriggling with each exaggerated movement of his face, like worms dying on the earth after a rainstorm – outlined with pure white makeup._

_His lips were coated red — the ultimate clown cliche – though instead of adding any kind of brightness to his face; it was so thick that it ran down his cheeks like dried blood; as he licked at it and laughed like the goddamned mad man that he was. Cold eyes shrouded in cracking dark make-up._

_And Bruce — Bruce was kneeling before him; blood running from his mouth, a low wrathful growl building in his throat. _

_He was angry – but he wasn't fighting back ... why?_

_The answer came when Batman's narrowed eyes suddenly widened, and cast themselves in the direction of the frightened little boy that was supposed to be a hero._

"_Dick ..." he mouthed. "Run."_

_A pair of yellow irises bore into his and another set of chilling cackles echo through the building._

_Another strangled cry is ripped from his throat — and he can't ... _

"_Run!" comes Bruce's warning. "Robin – _Run, now_!" _

"_Ah ... Batsy." sneers the Clown Prince, "Haven't ... I ... told you? I love kids ... always so ... _easy_ to put _smiles _on their faces ..."_

_Bruce earns a swift punch in the jaw, more blood spills forward staining the mold ridden factory floor. He spits, a tooth falls to the floor. "Tell me, _J_ – what exactly do you plan to gain from hurting the kid? – I doubt it'll make you look any less like a psychopath ..." _

_That's how come Bruce was such a hero to 'im – he always acted so _brave_, even when he was all beat up._

_And here _he _was. Standing there – disobeying orders; trembling just as hard as the night his parents died._

_The tears felt like acid – and as he struggled to breath, every hiccup felt like something inside him was trying to rip him to shreds._

_The Joker took quick maddening steps toward him – thrusting a blood-covered knife in his face, that caught quick flashes of moonlight, and reflected in his wide blue eyes._

"_Ya wanna be like that freak, kid?" the Clown Prince grinned, directing the blade in the direction of the wounded Batman._

'_Robin' nodded – fearing what would happen if he didn't._

"_But, _why_, huh? Doesn't seem like much fun – always so serious." The Joker extended a gloved hand that reeked of the mold of the factory and Bruce's blood, and slapped him promptly on the cheek – grinning, as he tried desperately to rub out the pain and cease his tears._

"_Why so Seriousssssss?" Demanded the crazed clown – flicking out his tongue as a tribute to a deadly serpent, and laughed long and loud at the boy's misery._

_Dick was still trembling, worried that his legs would start shattering from the inner earthquake raging inside him. _

_The Joker's irises, turned corn-yellow in what little light the room had, rolled back in an expression of annoyance. " Now ... don't make me kill you."_

_His sobs continued at the threat._

"_You're _scarin' _him, Puddin'..." came a light, feminine voice, it seemed to be coming from overhead. _

_The Joker cast his eyes to the ceiling above him in a slow, _annoyed _gesture – his lips resembling something of a pout, as the vile parody of a smile stretched ever-upward. His tongue running slowly and deliberately along the flesh of his lower lip, before hitting the roof of his mouth and extracting a nasal-chocked string of words from his throat._

"_... C'ere ..." he muttered, earning a squeal of delight from the other speaker. "Shut 'im up Harrrlll." Her name drawn out like a stick of gum he'd gotten tired of chewing. " ... Givin' ... _Daddy _... a bit of a headachhhe." _

"_Ohhh." The voice cooed, sympathetically, as another figure emerged from the darkness._

"_Harleen." Bruce muttered flatly, the blood causing the greeting to come out in a harsh gurgle._

"_Bats." came the curt response, as the woman rushed past him and wrapped her limp arms around The Joker's shoulders, peering at the boy with a bright – almost friendly – interest – but the Dark Knight wouldn't be ignored._

"_I see that Gotham news reports haven't gone to the dogs, so it's really true – you _are _that deluded."_

_She turned sharply and snapped at him._

"_Shut it, creep – I'm tryin' ta _help _your bat-brat."_

"_I also see that you're alive – so, he hasn't killed you – yet." Bruce grinned, earning him another icy glare. _

"_Puddin'" the women purred her voice resembling that of a baby's, as she nuzzled his hardened shoulder with the made-up curve of her cheek._

_Joker growled – clearly enraged at her display. "Harley!" he cried, causing his hench-girl to immediately snap forward in an obedient stance. "So ... in-compet-ant" he began cooly – stretching out each syllable as though pronunciation of the word was the world's grandest bore. Her blue eyes blinking in a horrid worried expression – the Clown Prince's face shown disgust._

_He turned sharply – gazing at Bruce, and turned back to her."... Quiet down the little shit." A wheezy almost-laugh at the order, as the tip of his tongue examined the scars. Harley grinned - her expression 'squished' and drenched with the utmost adoration. _

"_... within the next ten seconds." _

_She nodded fiercely, an obedient child. Another elvish, wheezy chuckle. _

"_Funny. Little. Thingggg." A row of rotted teeth, shown clearly, and before one had time to blink, his hand collided with the her throat - the loud '_smack_' of it, causing the boy to whimper slightly. The Joker, toyed with the flesh - squeezing hard enough to raise the slightest fear in her eyes — a sailboat on the horizon – and then releasing with a look of satisfaction._

_The woman knelt before Dick, paying no mind to the mauve, finger-shaped bruise, that was fast-forming around her throat. She grinned broadly like the pretty doctor she was supposed to be and chirped, "Hi."_

_Robin stood silent – tear after tear trailing down his cheeks; whimpering again as quietly as possible._

"_Hey ..." she whispered, "I'm Harley. Puddin' won't rough Bats up too bad, honest."_

_Harley wore similar face paint to her counterpart – though instead of messy, blood-like goop that her 'puddin'' wore, her black lipstick was applied smoothly – shining as she smiled. The grease-paint on her face was applied so modestly, so carefully, it almost looked to be her skin-tone – giving an almost angelic appearance, were it not for the thick , tar-like eye paint, that ran down her cheeks, thinning out as it went – like she'd cried hard. A clash to the tiny, perfectly poised cracks at the corners of her mouth – small 'Joker' scars that would grow longer in time._

_She worn a black and dried-red Jester's uniform, ripped in a few places, that seemed much to small – and he could see her ribs, could count them, could watch as they rose – 'cause, he guessed the Joker was starving her._

_The sound of a fist against Bruce's flesh – and Dick's quiet trembling once again began sporadic, his mouth contorted in silent screams._

_And Harley's voice grew louder. "Hey! _Hey_! Calm down!"_

"_Harley!" came another thunderous growl – and The Joker stalked forward again. He smiles, revealing a row of putrid, yellow teeth, and pushing out another wheezy chuckle. He grabbed Harley's blonde tresses so swiftly that it hurt; and he slapped her too – breaking her lip, cracking the small, fresh scars he'd made._

"_Okay, _okay_!" she squealed quickly, turning back to Robin and forcing a substance similar to hard candy between his lips._

_It was thick and sticky and sour in his mouth, as he rolled it back forth – eyes floating upward dreamily. An unbelievable calm. Then the daggers. _

_It Hurt._

_Hurt._

_Hurt._

_And then everything went black._

_He woke up in his bed at Wayne Manor, and threw up in the bucket that Alfred had placed there._

_Hearing Bruce grumble something about disappointment._

_And something about relief._

The slow buzz of a ceiling fan.

Such a stupid kid.

**ooo**

The vision had faded.

And the walls seem to bleed.

A little parting gift from Jesse — her lustful little brother.

**ooo**

**Wha'd ya think? **

**I **_**know**_**, Robin was a fully grown man by the time Harley came into the picture – but, I couldn't resist, ya know? I **_**love **_**her.**

**Feedback. Feedback. Feedback.**

**Next up: A battle scene. A Cy-centric scene. And ... more.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Yeah ... I'm **_**really **_**gonna try to cramp as many scenes as I can in this chapter.**

**I've recently gotten into Batman: The Animated Series.**

**I've recently seen one of Tim Burton's earlier films Batman Returns (1992) - using what I can gather from these masterpieces of media, I've decided to include Catwoman in this thing - not as a **_**major **_**character, as "this thing" is co-titled 'T I T A N S' for a reason - but it just seems as though today's Batman films tend to focus completely on **_**male**_** characters. And I can't seem to get enough of Bruce and Selina's complex little affair!**

**Also, Bruce/Batman was a major part of Dick's life - and sadly, he was mentioned only **_**once **_**throughout the entire series, that being said, I'd really like to include as much father-son interaction between the two as possible; and seeing as romantic relations in the lives of "single parents" impact their children significantly [and I speak from experience - **_**being **_**a child of divorce] I figure Selina would be a brilliant cat-alyst. (... yes that was a [terrible] pun)**

**ON WITH THE FANFIC!**

**ooo**

**Chapter 13: A Change of Pace**

He awoke, in a puddle of his own sweat. Baring no memory of falling asleep after 2 a.m.

He cast his blue irises toward the ceiling, and groaned as he felt they'd be pulled loose from the sockets.

Invisible shadows stalked his heels, as he made his way into the kitchen. He took a seat near the counter and tried not to think about breakfast – for fear he might be sick.

_That's weird._

Bruce was usually awake by now, grumbling like the old man that he was about back problems and hair loss, but, the sounds of a log being sawed behind himmade it clear that this morning would be an exception.

The flat-screen on the wall suddenly clicked on, as if it were being operated by ghosts, and__began blaring a story about last night's criminal activity. Hardcore mobsters and their drug-rings, cereal rapists, and the as usual triumphs of a certain "masked hero" minus one sidekick.

Suddenly, footsteps could be heard steadily approaching the kitchen, causing Dick to turn his eyes from the images on screen, and carrying into the light, Wanye Manor's _curvaceous _house-guest.

This, instantly "perking up" certain parts of Dick's body.

It was wrong to stare, and he _knew _it. Especially considering that Gotham's most infamous cat-burglar _should _be regarded as something of a "mother" to him.

He wasn't exactly eight anymore.

He'd fit the pieces together in a matter of seconds.

She'd been here several nights this week, quietly and seductively urging Bruce to retire early for the night, as soon as a few glasses of wine were emptied. And, in time, filling the halls of the place with sounds that nearly made the Boy Wonder ram his skull through the nearest wall.

But, Dick also knew that the proverbial "wedding bells" were silent on the horizon – any woman Bruce had been with over the past few years had said the same thing – 'Living in a city like this, you'd think nothing would frighten him ... but then, the idea of 'commitment' comes along.'

At this entirely too-true prospect, Grayson _had _to breathe a sigh of relief.

At 15, the _last _thing on Dick's list of 'wants' was 'a new mommy' – especially not one that looked _this_ ... _this_ ...

"Good Morning, Richard." came the cheerful, feminine drawl, from the scantily clad blonde – her tone indicating a significant amount to pride at both _finally _unmasking The Batman, and ... "_riding_" Gotham's most eligible bachelor off the market in a matter of a few weeks.

Even with half the blood in his body in certain "other" places, Dick _had _always been good at reading people.

"G'morning, Selina." he answered, momentarily amazing himself at his ability to form words, reluctantly dragging his eyes away from her form, and allowing the guilt to surface.

At least this explained Bruce's "sudden impulse" to sleep-in.

Catwoman was known for toying with her prey for _some _hours, before finally allowing the poor creature a taste of peace.

"Lucky bastard." Rich grumbled.

_Another burglary attempt by Gotham's famed anti-hero, Catwoman was once again halted by none-other than The Dark Knight. _Came the voice of the comely, female news anchor _However, law enforcement's crafty, feline-themed adversary, was _not _apprehended by authorities. Like the animal for which she was named, it seems this young woman is as clever as she is stealthy, and managed to elude her captor as quickly as she was caught._

_Elude, huh? _the thought ran out as he peered with a noticeable grimace over the rim of his coffee mug. _I wasn't aware that GN was going for a PG rating ... at least _one _of us was able to shed the ghosts for one night._

"Lucky_ bastard_."he grumbled, a flushed tone rising to his cheeks as Selina's head tilts, and she turns toward him.

Ironically, wearing the most innocent of smiles.

"Rich." she speaks, "I want to thank you and Bruce for taking Isis while I'm away for the week; cats are very territorial, you know? And, in a _castle _like this she's had to make sure she's covered _all _grounds. She's just gotten used to this place ... _and _given poor Alfred more than a fair amount of gray hairs ... those poor curtains ..."

As she continued to talk, Rich begins to ponder — a smirk slowly rising across his face.

_So ... Bruce is _cat-sitting_? I am gonna get a _lot _of mileage outta this one!_

He was still plagued by the nightmares, and tired enough to bring about hallucinations that even the local crack-heads would find disturbing, _but _given this little tid-bit, Richard Grayson's day just became brighter.

Raven's however, continued to spiral ...

**ooo**

The walls dripped with blood. It's thick, awful scent striking her senses like the fangs of a cobra – it's poison just as potent.

The scarlet fluid was drowning her, snaking down the walls which held her, and leaving in this path thick black marks.

Scars, resembling the haunting, written prophesy of her fate:

_The Gem was born of_ _Evil's fire._

_The Gem shall be his portal._

_He comes to claim._

_He comes to Sire._

_The end of all things mortal._

With all her strength, Raven clawed out from beneath the thick sheets with seemed to strangle her, and attempted to stand.

But, her efforts were in vain as a horrible dizziness swept over her - she lost her footing.

"No, _No_!" she cried, trembling sporadically and beating violently at the floor. The skin of her knuckles breaking, as she pleaded with unseen forces, perhaps willing to the floor to open beneath her, and send her into a blinding salvation somewhere beneath the earth, but there was none.

_He comes to claim._

_He comes to Sire._

_The end of all things mortal._

"It's not real." she spoke in a frantic whisper, that attempted to set free a scream.

"... It ... it's not – _Mother_!"

Raven was once again a child. A little girl – desperate to run on tiny feet – away from "real-life" monsters, and into Mommy's arms.

"Arella!" she cried. "Mom, _please_!" The voice that had spoken _these _words rose to a shrill scream.

"Mom – _MOM_!"

Raven's body crumbling, like dry and dead ash lingering about a burnt-out fire.

She writhed uncontrollably against a solace-free ground, drenched in a down pour of precipitation, as the slow, razor hum of imaginary flies circle around the corners of her ceiling, giving food to their ever-growing maggots.

She was certain that invisible hands had coiled themselves inside her, and ripped her throat from it's place, leaving it eternally numb with screams.

Her skull throbbed, sharp _cracks _echoed from deep within her.

And then, everything became consumed in white.

**ooo**

There's the alarm.

And, there's morning's light.

There's the sweet, familiar smell of clean linens, harshly entwining with his collection of over-ripe fruit and moldy pizza boxes.

All, it seems, is perfectly normal on Garfield Logans' one-out-of-nearly-fifty-four-thousandth morning he's spent on the plane of existence.

All, of course, except for one _glaringly obvious_ difference:

The wonderfully unusual presence of an unusually _under-scent-less_ Raven Roth.

Of course, since the experiments that had granted him many years of life, Garfield had ... _changed _– and though, he _had _found a way to appear less of a freak on the outside – he was still, and always would be cursed with the bizarre, heightened scenes of others in the animal kingdom.

Still, he caught no sign of the chemical odors — that whirled about in the hyper-sensitive nose of a canine — from the Raven-like figure that sat seductively in the crumb-covered easy-chair across his bedroom.

Nothing at all – which usually meant something was ... _up_.

A near-_painful _sensation in his groin told him, clearly: _Yes, something was _up_. Bewitching-ly, embarrassingly ... _up!

He pulled himself upward, and rubbed at his eyes.

'Cept for _her_ eyes, which were tinted with a longing that he'd never _ever_ seen in them before — she looked just the same as she had any other day he'd seen her at school.

Although, in_ this _particular instance – his half-asleep mind observed – it looked like the light from the window were emanating _through _her, almost like she were glass.

"_Rae_?" he groaned, after all his odd experiences with the Roth-girl, he'd convinced himself that _nothing _would surprise him; and that had worked well; until, of course, this morning.

_Dude, this is just ... _freaky!

"Wha–What is–Wha?" Gar sputtered, his voice, still too thick with sleep to convey the shock he was feeling.

_Raven_ on the other hand, hadn't spoken a single word to the bewildered changeling, and merely continued to point her strange, lustful gaze at him. Her index finger was positioned firmly against her slightly upturned lips in a calming _hush _type of gesture, and, after a few moments, she moved off of the chair in a memorizing cat-like stance, crawling slowly toward him as bursts of sunlight were thrown through her.

"Ra–_ven_?"he breathed, blinking slowly – allowing his mind to process this – with every rise and fall of his eyes, she appeared closer to him ... and closer ... and _closer_.

And, there was that smell of old parchment again.

The tip of her nose brushing his _– Like a butterfly_.

Her blue-amethysteyes shrouded teasingly behind thick lashes.

Her _eyes_ however, were the _last _of the features on the teenage boy's mind – since puberty the femininebody was always a _fascinating _entity to him, and here one was, close enough to reach out and ... _touch_. 

"Garfield." she mutters, sweeping her half-lidded irises across his features, and flashing a satisfied smile when an undeniably love-struck expression over takes him.

"Rae ..." Her name barely leaving his lips before it is smothered by her kiss. The smell of lavender incense filling his nose, his mind reeling with painted fireworks — Dream or not - he was _begging _for this to last.

**ooo**

His eyes poised in intense concentration as he tightened one last screw. His basement bedroom lit by one lone light bulb – swinging in aconstant repetitive motion, the chain-switch ticking absently.

He flexed his so-called "fingers" – desperate for that ever-missing "human feel" – the one he'd never know again. He missed the color of his veins – threading through everyday "human flesh" – the feel of heat, or numbness when it was cold – the unnoticed look of a pulse.

He was a _freak_.

The main attraction at a side-show, but oddly enough – pretty-boy, Dick Grayson, and his rag-tag little "posse"seemed to take an interest in Vic Stone – the flesh, blood, and ... metal _guy _– rather than the medical marvel, the human calculator, or a target for un-eaten mystery meat.

What was their _game_?

_Rich_-boy, never _did _seem like the _other _ass-holes at that place.

_Holy shit, it's the Resurrection! _

_Somebody call Will Smith, he might be defective!_

_Does he operate on _quarters_ now or somethin'!_

All these clever little one-liners, these sickening euphemisms – _all _delivered unto him by his former _friends _– his _teammates._

Grayson and the other misfits kept to themselves, though. And, the lil' dude, Logans – as _irritating _as he was – didn't mean any _harm _by his questions_._

The _ladies _– the weird little red-head, and the quiet goth – they seemed okay, too. _Girls – _it seemed were more sympathetic to his ... _condition_.

Well, all except _Beech_.

His "arm" buzzed mechanically as he spread it out, circling the air in a counter clockwise motion.

Rubbing out the dull, sweet ache of all-too-human muscle stiffness.

He was _human _— and even though, he'd never much cared for _friends _after the accident, _they _seemed to except him.

And that was enough.

**ooo**

The horribly love-struck, _squishy_ expression once frozen on Garfield's face began to fade as ... _she _did too!

Raven was disappearing – like dew on a front lawn – like the ghost – her nice, _warm _weight gradually vanishing from his torso.

Her pout-y, and kiss-swollen lips forming hushed words in a tongue he had never heard before.

Then she was _completely _gone, leaving no trace of ever having been in his room at all.

_A ... _dream_?_

**ooo**

_Raven._

Raven!

You're _safe _now, sweetheart!

The words becoming solid. Becoming _familiar_. Growing _real_.

The intense, and raw burning in her skull slowly fading, as a flesh-like object – a finger tip – traced Scathe's mark slowly, gently, and deliberately.

Arella – Ang – _Mom _muttering a lullaby-like prayer in _Azarian_.

The mark began as light as the touch of a butterfly, and crumbled like the weakened skin of an onion.

She was _safe _– she guessed.

And, she'd wait for an explanation of her mother's words — just as soon as she awoke.

_Safe_.

**ooo**

**Yeah, I** _**know **_**I promised a battle-scene last time ... but ... **_**goddamn**_**, muti-plotted; novel-like, AU fanfics are a lot of **_**work**_**. Between this, unmentionable drama in my life, and preparation for the end of my senior year – well, it's a wonder I've written **_**this much**_**.**

**Hopefully, you'll be grateful enough to give me some good reviews – *puppy eyes***


	14. Chapter 14

**I cannot express how sorry I am for the long wait! My excuse: COLLEGE SUCKS! No ... no in all fairness, it's a lot of work - but it's also a lot of fun, too. I word of advice, kids! Once you get out of school, and (maybe) decide to pursue a higher education ... resist the curly fries! Though they may be delicious and wonderful in every conceivable way, they call it the "freshman fifteen" for a reason! Now I'll be living off rabbit food for the next couple weeks, and doing sit-ups ... lots of sit-ups.**

**Hope you all had a good holiday - and New Years Eve ... and Valentine's Day ... and St. Patrick's day ... damn it really **_**has **_**been a long time since my last update. I hope you all remember me. **

**ooo**

**Chapter 14: Another Day **

The Dark Knight emerged from beyond the shadows of his resting place.

Or ... rather ... Bruce Wayne awoke. Not entirely trusting of his sleep-heavy mind, and taking slow deliberate steps onto the tiles of his kitchen floor; wincing at the cold — _Damn, what's the sense of having a _heated _floor if no ever bothers to turn the damn dial? _

He flexed the backs of his shoulders – widening his eyes at the fact that they weren't as _sore _as usual ... _How did ...?_

"Morning, handsome." she whispers, the feel of her lips on his cheek lingering for a moment after she pulls away; sauntering briskly over to the oven where a collection of charcoal-like ... mass sizzled away in a pan.

"Selina." he spoke, a hazy collection of thought-like sentiments flowing carelessly together in his mind, only to be devoured by the sight in front of him; the sunlight streaming through her hair; a pout painted prettily on her lips.

Falling in love was a _bad _thing.

He knew that.

The gruff-voiced stiff-shouldered hero inside him _called _that out to him – a monotone, yet somehow rage-filled chant.

And the jeer-filled, smart-ass expressions Dick was throwing at him from beyond his cereal bowl _weren't helping_!

"I'd tried to make us all breakfast." she sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Not a very easy thing to do, when you've become accustomed to nothing but take-out and canned-tuna ... should've known this would be a disaster." A light laugh on her lips.

"Don't be so hard on yourself." Bruce reassures her, stroking lightly at her shoulders, and examining their would-be meal. "It ... it looks – you'll get the hang of it.

Selina towards him, emerald eyes painting a smug expression that seemed to indicate – _Not funny._

A faint 'beeping' emerges from inside the pocket of the robe she'd slipped on, eyes widening into an alarmed expression, as pulls out a cell phone and observes the time.

"I'm late." she mutters, casting a relived glance in Alfred's direction as the butler stood in the open hallway clutching a tote bag stuffed with her possessions.

"Your things, Miss Kyle." he states calmly, repressing the urge to smirk at her frantic demeanor.

"Thank you, Alfred." she states in a gasp, making her way towards him and gently taking in from his hands.

"I trust you'll have a pleasant trip."

Selina nods in appreciation, waves a farewell to Dick, states with a wink that she'll call Bruce later, and begins making her way toward the nearest exit; walking with a confident sway in her hips and awaiting the flash of cameras from the eager paparazzi – whom, she was confident, were waiting in the gardens, eager to 'dig up some dirt' on Bruce Wayne's latest lady.

WhileBruce– against his better judgement – stared after her; entranced.

Dick – who's chair was tipped backward a bit in an effort to 'better observe' Miss Kyle as she passed – took immediate notice of this.

Bruce stifled a groan – his son had politely passed on _many _an opportunity for verbal torment over the past few weeks; a proverbial 'calm before the storm' – he had known this was coming.

"Shouldn't you be getting to school?" He remarked flatly, and surprising his efforts to avoid his son's jeers weren't in vain.

_Huh. _

**ooo**

She recognized this melody – sweet, and sad, and slow – and could put it to words in Azarian tongue. The knife-like aches in her skull were fast-fading. And small – almost drunken – flashes of Happy danced gleefully in her mind, arms spread wide in a child's interpretation of an airplane.

There was a faint _icy _feel where Trigon's mark had been, the mark itself now feeling much like a small scrap of paper, that had been thrown at her in Study Hall and now floated gently to Earth ... and onto her forehead. _Torture makes _strange _thoughts!_ Happy giggled.

_Tor-ture? _The memories came whirling back then, hitting her with a swift, cruel force – bringing back the screams. They rang through her skull, breaking the solace and the ice like one-thousand fires. "M-Mo-Mom?"

"Shh." came the calming hush, as more of her mother's song followed – every somber note dulling the flames. "It's all over for the moment, child."

_She sounds so much like a priestess now. _Raven's face contorted in a near wince at the thought, she hadn't hear such a _proper _tone in Arella's voice since it seemed as though Azarath had fallen.

She once again felt the pressure of the now feather-like mark on her forehead.

"Be calm." Arella sighed, the light infliction in her voice suggesting that a faint and nervous smile was present on her lips – as though the bit of motherly advice she'd uttered was not meant for _daughter _alone.

Raven's tongue felt like lead, and tasted like copper. And, when she spoke again, she could barely recognized the hoarse, beaten croak that had risen from her throat as her own voice. "Sc-Scathe."

Thoughts were becoming an uncomfortable, blurry merger of dreams and nightmares, and her earliest childhood memories ... and it _hurt_! So disoriented was she, that the empath half-expected her mother to bare the same reaction as the many priestesses of Azarath.

Raven had watched from the windows of the temple one Azarian summer, too bound by both Azar's rules and the heavy tedious walls of the place that seemed to stretch on for years. At night she could swear she heard it _laughing _at her misery – a low booming rumble somewhere deep, _deep _inside the walls. She'd been taken here to _help _with her "condition" as they'd called it – she wasn't allowed to feel anything. No joy at receiving her favorite sweet as a gift. No sadness at the pain of a skinned knee. And no anger at those _awful _boys who had constantly stalked after her and pulled her hair, cackling like chickens. With every stride they'd mutter, _"Witch." _

She remembered. Them. And the Temple. And the scent of Azar's skin as she held her close. And, Raven remembered the swift consequences of speaking the name of her father. There were glares, poised in the beady eyes of the elderly priestesses, as their hands shook violently – perhaps resisting to take just _one _violent swing at the little brat who'd simply refused to understand the concept of _danger_.

Trigon was dangerous.

And his name – alias or not – held power, enough to inject fear into any soul who found itself in the unfortunate predicament of hearing it spoken. But the children found this funny, and to some degree fascinating – scaring grown-ups was never easy, and to actually accomplish this, well, it was a feat – something to boost about to one's friends while priestess' ears weren't around to listen. And, when her back was turned they'd make a game out of chucking stones at the walls of the temple, chanting swear words in Azarian tongue, trying with all their might to tempt the child-demon ... the _witch_, out of her hiding place.

But, all-the-while she remain inside – growing less and less familiar with the stinging of sobs in her throat, or the rage-filled growls born there too.

_Kinda like now_. Came the broken and monotone voice of Timid through her mind – _We still can't feel anything ... can we?_

"They were lies, sweetheart." Angela muttered, allowing a warm and motherly sweetness to enter her voice, as she gingerly placed her palm on Raven's now mark-less forehead. "Scathe, won't be returning any time soon."

"M-mom ..." Raven's voice growing more familiar to her own ears. "H-how?"

"Mother's intuition." she responded, the slightest indication of laughter on her lips was not lost on the Empath. But, as quickly as the humor rose in her voice, did her mood dart into darkness. "You were crying in pain." her voiced hitched. "Screaming for me ... you were thrashing ... _screaming_." her voice fell completely, and Raven could _feel _her pain – _taste _it on her tongue. She cringed, fighting a whimper, and straining to open her eyes.

"I felt just what you did, Raven. Mother's intuition." she repeated, vengeful passion merging with her sorrow. "You hissed out Jared's name – the games of Scathe's spawn are nothing more than some _petty _act of psychological warfare – they will _not _harm you _anymore_!"

Raven's eyelids lifted, allowing her to regain sight enough to behold a frantic Arella Roth, scurrying to each of the doorways in their home, pressing her palms to each one, as she'd done to Raven, and quickly muttering Azarian blessings as she strode to the next. "If the "mark" had real ..." she breathed, pausing at the windows of the place for good measure - and nodding briefly in satisfaction. "I would've have been able to erase it so easily – if at all. The priestesses in Azarath _might _have taught your mother a thing or two, but some things, sweetheart – are best left to experts."

_Like advising your mother to run the hell away – as fast and as far as she can – before her daughter rips apart the Earth?_ Raven thinks – _... yeah, things like _that _are better off placed in the hands of Dr. Bill. _

Raven lifts her feet, swinging them off of the sofa in one swift motion, stifling a groan as the weight of the Earth came baring down on her skull. "I'm feeling better, Mom." she states, doing her best to avoid Arella's concerned gaze, and stalking off to her room to prepare for school – _Another day of playing normal._

**ooo**

She was unsure of if she were really flying. If this were so, it held little merit – several _hours _of Kom's berating for what she called the "showing off", could not possibly ruin the utter elation welling inside her. For she had never met a boy more wonderful than the one called Richard Grayson. The status of "princess" had been her birthright, and with this status came an obvious number of suitors – some were incredibly gifted warriors, some were incredibly handsome, some a glorious combination of both. Kori remembered since the earliest Earth-years of childhood, how a voice she hadn't heard very often – her father's – remarked with great pride in his gruff voice how marrying into a family of pure Tamarian blood would mean great prosperity for the royal family, and that – though, she hadn't understood what it meant – would insure the avoidance of another _mistake_,like her sister. Their mother had often wept at statements like these – though, more for the accusations of unfaithfulness in their union, than the harsh words toward Kom.

With a heavy heart, her feet bore her weight again. The suitors on Tamaran were _most _unlike Dick Grayson. The thought brought a weak smile to the corners of her mouth. And, Dick Grayson is _most _unlike the suitors. She slipped the small bag onto her shoulders, and headed out the door, with these thought in mind: _Perhaps, my sister might find a companion as wonderful as well._

**ooo **

He stared blankly at the mark on the wall. A perfect circle - carved out by an almost flame-like black stain. He'd actually done it, after weeks of having little-to-nothing to say to his grandparents, practically inhaling every night's dinner, and hastily excusing himself in an effort to make some sort of use out of the useless hunk of metal that seemed to think itself an arm – he'd _done _that.And, it was nice to have the drive to work on something for himself. As the wide grin spreading across his face threatened to burst, he'd reminded himself that Gram had a strict rule against guns in the household.

But then, this wasn't exactly a gun.

In a city like Gotham, weaponry seemed a necessity.

And what Gram didn't know, certainly wouldn't hurt her.

"_Victor STONE!_" came the bellowing cry from the foot of the stairs, causing him to thump the still-human part of his skull against the low ceiling of his room. He stole a quick glance at the digital clock, "Get your movin'! Time for school!"

So it was.

**ooo**

His right side itched. With a dog-like groan, his hind leg darted out to rectify that. He rolled to the left lazily and enjoyed the feel of the warming sunshine against him as it streamed through the window of the kids' room – after the tenth time of checking for monsters, and the twelve re-telling of a story about the Patrol ... he'd given up – one eye opened slowly, revealing a blank-and-white image of the Pink Princess alarm clock.

_Shit. School._

**ooo**

**Some serious shiz-nik is gonna go down in the next installment, I promise. We might see Harley again – she's got an actual place in the plot - and we like Harley, right?**

**Speaking of which, during my minimal free-time this semester, I managed to make a few changes to Chapter 12, as far as a general description and a few lines of dialog. Check it out! (If you want).** **Reviews por favor - I know not much happened it this one - but, I need to know if I should continue with this. **


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